He Likes His Rare
by AndThenIDied
Summary: It'd be easier if he wasn't already dead. It'd be easier if I knew he wouldn't slurp out my brains like noodles. It'd be easier if he didn't look at me like his next meal. Actually, everything would be easier if he wasn't a zombie, and this wasn't the end of the world. Creek.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park **

**He Likes His Rare**

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**Chapter One**

"Tweek! God damn it, hurry up!" The shrill scream mixed with screeching tires, my own frantic yells, and a few monstrous moans filled the air like a giant audio track of chaos.

My shaking hands were full of canned food and small jugs of water as I ran desperately for the dilapidated red Honda Accord charging in my direction. My mind was eerily quiet, which is a very terrifying thing for a guy like me, and only really happens when I'm about to shit my pants (which I'm pretty sure I've already achieved, but when a pack of _raving cannibals _are chasing you, it's not really the first thing on your mind).

The small car halted after a sharp turn, the passenger door being swung open by the flustered driver. For once, I was gracious for my awkwardly long and thin legs, because when I needed to get the fuck out of somewhere, they were really convenient.

I didn't dare look back at how close those _things _were behind me as I flung myself into the car—unceremoniously dumping my spoils on the floor and burying myself into the fake tight leather seat. With a trembling hand, I slammed the door shut and shouted, "Go, go go!"

I could feel the tires beneath us squeal against the rough ground and launch the car forward, nearly sending me through the windshield. I caught myself against the dashboard and flopped back into my seat, glancing out the window with wide brown eyes; watching as the monsters slowly faded over the horizon like the sun did many months ago. Slowly but surely, my heart slowed down and receded back into my chest (for a while there I was petrified that I'd throw it up). Taking a deep breath, I grabbed at the goggles that clung uncomfortably to my face and yanked them over my head, letting them rest in my wild hair.

"J-Jesus Christ, took you long enough," I spat angrily, examining the brown gloves that were covering the pale skin of my thin hands.

"Well maybe if you took the bat with you _like I said, _you could have fended for yourself." Bebe Stevens, the driver and the only human being I've seen since the world went to fucking Hell, hissed back at me. She flipped her long thick curly hair over her shoulder, and kept her dark blue eyes glued to the cracked road ahead of us.

"I didn't think they'd be at that store! Didn't you see how run down it was? Erg, I'm not psychic, okay!" Shit, now I'm getting emotional. It's kind of embarrassing how emotional I can get. I probably cry at least twice a day, but what can I say? I'm an emotional guy. No shame in that…unless it kills me. Oh Jesus.

"No, you're not," Bebe agreed patiently, she held the wheel with one hand while fiddling with the end of her long buckled leather glove with the other, "but zombies are everywhere, always assume that."

She didn't have to tell me twice. Looking back on it, it's actually really weird that I had insisted on raiding the store without taking anything. Oh God, _the zombies totally developed some kind of mind controlling technique. They know I'm wicked shit with a bat, so they convinced me to enter the store without one. FUCK! _

"Bebe, what if the zombies can control minds?" I squeaked worriedly, tugging on the rough fabric of my thick button up jacket. Bebe only snorted, and returned both hands to the wheel, I frowned at her response. She should be taking this shit seriously. They could control her mind at any time too. _What if they are now? And she's driving me into a city of zombies? _

No no. Relax, just relax.

"Do you hear yourself sometimes?" She laughed. "Not possible babe."

"That's what everyone told me when I tried to warn them about the zombies! And look what happened!" I grit my teeth together and swallowed down an involuntary shriek. "And don't call me babe."

"Alright, _babe." _

"Ah! That's gross." My reasons behind the disgust I have for that word are a little odd. One, babe is a word only couples use when they're being cuddly and ugh that grosses me out (I know, real mature Tweek, get over it). And Two, it reminds me of the movie, Babe, you know with that little pig? I can't really remember the details of it much, but when my mother sat me down and forced me to watch it, I ended up sobbing the entire movie. Babe just made me cry…like (embarrassingly) a lot of things.

And, now that I just thought of my mom, I might cry again. _Shit. _

"So what did you manage to grab before you got chased out of there?" Bebe asked. Meanwhile I was wiping furiously at my eyes so stupid tears wouldn't trickle out. It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the food and water that were rolling around at my feet.

"Ngh, um" I bent over and picked up a few of the cylindrical containers, reading the labels, "beans, corn, and Spaghetti O's?" Not the best food we've ever found, but it'll do. Jesus what I'd do to get my hands on coffee, I've been craving that shit since the zombies appeared. I know my thermos is in the back seat of the car, eagerly waiting for me to use it again. Sometimes I feel kind of bad for it, so I'll pour some water into it or something.

"Fuck yeah!" Bebe yelled cheerily as I flinched, "Please tell me there are meat balls in the Spaghetti O's." I looked down at the can again. _There is no way that's actually meat._

"Y-yeah, there are." I mumbled.

"Oh my God, that just made my day." Bebe said excitedly, making a sharp turn, causing me to almost slide out of my seat.

"How can you eat those things man, there is no way that's quality beef!"

"I don't care what it is, it tastes fucking good." Bebe turned to me and licked her lips seductively.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" I screeched. She laughed, but did what I said.

We were silent then, watching the road and dead grass pass by us. It seemed like everything was lifeless. The plants were all worn out and dry, cattle would be dead in their neglected fields. And people…forget about it. At times, I think Bebe and I are the only people left, but that thought scared the shit out of me so I prefer not to think about it. Even the sky seemed dead (if that were possible). Thick dark gray clouds blocked out the sun and rolled across the sky like an endless blanket. Both Bebe and I didn't know where we were, or where we were going…or even if this whole thing would blow over. That's another thing I prefer not to think about.

We were headed up a pretty steep slope now, and the roads were becoming less developed.

"You think we'll be able to find somewhere—ngh—to stay for the night?" I asked quietly, keeping my gaze out the window.

"Probably…I'd think a cabin or something." Bebe said tiredly. "Hey, grab one of my CDs would you?" I opened the hatch to the glove compartment, where a small assortment of CDs and knives lay. Careful not to _cut my freaking hand off _I plucked one of the CDs and closed the small door. I read the case cover: Britney Spears. Good pick Tweek (and I'm not being sarcastic, I like Britney okay? Sue me).

I turned on the radio and was greeted with static noise. After a few seconds of silence, I popped the CD into the stereo. I didn't really like turning on the radio, because every time there wasn't a voice speaking through the speakers—it was more than a little disappointing.

When the first song began to play Bebe smiled. "Britney Spears. Good boy Tweek, I've trained you well." I scowled and flipped to the song _Stronger. _

"Fuck you," I said, "I liked her long before I started talking to you."

"You think she's still alive?"

"I don't know—erg—maybe." I shrugged honestly.

The car fell silent again, but the mood of the car was lighter with classic Britney songs pumping through the cheap stereo. But, as the day darkened, I grew more antsy and alert. With the dark came shadows and shadows held zombies. I put my goggles over my eyes just thinking about them.

Bebe often made fun of my goggles, but I wear them for safety! What if while I'm bashing a zombie's head in, the blood spurts into my eyes and I become infected! AGH! Besides, it's important to keep as much of yourself covered as possible, just in case! Bebe herself wears a bandana around the bottom half of her face while kicking zombie ass, but I never make fun of her (because I'm a good person). It's not around her face now, of course, it's simply hanging from her neck.

Bebe clicked on the headlights with caution. There were no too many trees and turns to risk driving in the dark without them. We usually avoided headlights because the potentially brought unwelcome visitors.

My heart began beating harder in my chest as I looked past the black trees to the darkened world beyond. Who knew what was hiding in the woods? Underpants gnomes were the least of my problems.

With a sharp turn left Bebe said, "Look, up there, I see a shack or something." I immediately turned my quivering gaze in the direction Bebe was looking. And sure enough, there was a humped, square looking shadow in the distance, and by the time the headlights reached the shape, it was obvious to be an abandoned cabin. Probably only had one room, but it would do.

My gloved hand reached into the back and brought front the golf club and baseball bat. Both were worn, and had dark blood spatters on them from previous weeks, but they're part of the reason why we're still alive.

The car was now crawling up to the cabin; it was horribly cliché and creepy as far as abandoned cabins went…which didn't help me calm down. When Bebe parked the car just outside the door, we sat still and listened. The CD had long been turned off, and not even a cricket could be heard from the silent forest around us.

Bebe grabbed the golf club from me and turned the car off. Immediately we plunged into darkness. I felt like I was going to throw up my own heart again.

"You ready?" Bebe asked quietly, unlocking the doors. I just nodded silently, swallowing the lump in my throat. _Damn it, why do I always get like this whenever I leave the car? _

We both opened our doors, and sat stiffly on the edge of our seats, waiting for something to jump out at us. When nothing happened, we edged farther out of the car. The silence of the forest was maddening. There was no bird chatter, or even the buzzing of crickets. I could only hope that that meant whatever used to be here, moved on because there was nothing left.

The front door of the cabin was slightly ajar, and the only reason I could see this was because of the faint light that came from the car (since we haven't shut the doors yet). I looked to Bebe with large panicked eyes concealed safely behind thick goggles. She motioned for me to follow her to the cabin, raising her club defensively and shutting the car door quietly.

We crept up to the door as silently as possible, but the noise of our feet rusting leaves and twigs on the ground was almost deafening in the quiet forest. I had the bat raised over my head, and continued to dart my eyes from one said to the next. Beside me were only dark trees with pointless leafless branches. Bebe pulled her bandana over her face and put her hand on the rotting wooden door.

The light of the car blinked out, and now I could only see her shadow. My heart was pounding in my throat as Bebe's shadowed figure lightly pushed the old piece of wood.

It creaked open slowly to reveal a pitch-black entrance that could hold anything inside; I squeaked anxiously.

I heard rustling from Bebe, and she pulled out a small flashlight, pulling her bandana down and sticking the butt end in her mouth—returning both hands to the handle of the gulf club. She stepped into the cabin first, and I was close behind. _Because the person who waits outside always gets taken out first!_

The inside was small; it was like a wooden box. There was nowhere for anything to hide in here. All of the furniture must have been removed when the owner left.

I shut the door behind me and exhaled, lowering my baseball bat to the worn floor. Bebe pointed the flashlight in my direction. The light wasn't nearly strong enough to even cause me to squint.

"We can crash here tonight." Bebe said, her voice echoing off of the empty walls, "then head back out to find a better place."

I agreed and offered to stay watch. After all, I never really slept when things were normal—let alone in these kinds of situations. The only time I actually did sleep was when my body became so exhausted it finally crashed. And that happened just a few days ago, so I've probably got about another few nights before I can't stay up any longer.

I sat down next to Bebe's sleeping form. I played with the flashlight absently, resting the bat in my lap.

I didn't like times like these: when I was left alone with my own thoughts. They always carried me back to that day…_the _day, and the people I lost—the people I will never see again.

And _him. _

I shook my head and tugged my goggles away from my face. My eyes stung, and I knew tears were definitely going to pour tonight. But, I wasn't about to stop them. Sometimes it was good, in times like these, to just sit down and have a good cry.

_It will be okay._

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**Alright, chapter one, complete. Um, you probably have a lot of questions? Well, hopefully those will be answered next chapter. I hope you liked this and…a review wouldn't hurt? OTL I just want to know if people want this thing to continue or not so yeah ahaha.**

****A special thanks to Syrina (who is a beautiful and wonderful person =u =) for being the beta of this fic**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

** -Warning: Violence-**

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**Chapter Two**

_It was my junior year of high school, only one more year to go until I never had to step foot in this shitty building ever again. I mean, Jesus, it was disgusting. There was mold on the floor, cum in the bathrooms, gum on the desks, and writing on the walls. My own personal hell was built into a rectangular institution and called South Park High School (if there is anything that I don't miss about the past; that would be it). _

_ I never got to begin my last year of high school, or even finish the prior year for that matter. However, that's beside the point! This flashback isn't even about that day! Oh God, whenever I try to recall it, my brain just shoves it back down. I think it's trying to protect what little sanity I have left, and I'm going to let it. _

_ No, this flashback is about _him. _Which is stupid (GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD) when you think about it. I mean, I'm in the middle of madness right now and my head seeks out this guy. The good times I had with him at least…before he dropped me like some kind of fucking old toy. _

_ I don't remember what period it was that day, could have been second, third, or sixth for all that matter. And instead of being in my classroom, I had my back shoved up against the grimy wall of the janitor's closet. Lips were pressed against my own, sucking and biting with desperate strength. My hands were pulling at short thick black hair, and my mouth was opening—greedily waiting for the other's tongue to taste me. Heat surged through my body when I felt his tongue hesitantly enter my mouth. I could tell he didn't know what to do, and ran my own tongue along his, over his, under his. It was glorious, and he released a groan of pleasure, before sloppily dethatching himself from me. _

_ "Fuck," he murmured, "you're good." _

_ "Then let's keep going, Craig." I replied breathlessly, and dived in for more. _

A light tap on my back brought me out of my stupor. I nearly jumped out of my skin and bludgeoned Bebe to death with my baseball bat. She laughed at me and stretched, several parts of her cracking and popping from sleeping on the hard floor. It was disgusting (all of those noises are disgusting). And then I realized how light it was, and that I must have been lost in my thoughts for a while.

"Geez Tweek, some guard you are." Bebe yawned, "You keep watch and just end up staring at the wall. I swear, blood thirsty zombies could have busted in here and you wouldn't have noticed." She flipped her hair over her shoulder, digging into her cargo jeans pocket to search for a hair band. Once Bebe found one, she tied her curly hair back into a high ponytail.

"I would have noticed." I hissed back in my own defense, lifting myself from the dirty cabin floor. I pulled my goggles over my head and around my neck, taking care to peer out the grimy window cautiously for any undead visitors.

"I don't know babe, you looked pretty out of it." Maybe beating Bebe to death right now wouldn't be so bad.

I slowly opened the front door with the end of my bat. The natural light that flooded into the cabin was a welcoming site, and made my frazzled nerves calm down a little bit. However, just because it wasn't dark, didn't mean there weren't flesh-eating monsters waiting to rip out my _throat! Ah! _

I pulled up my goggles sloppily with one hand, making sure the other was clasping the baseball bat firmly. I had a nice view of Bebe's Honda, and it didn't look like there was anything dangerous lurking around it, so I took a careful step forward.

The forest seemed just as silent as last night, but the daylight made it a little less unsettling. Albiet, the sun wasn't shining—like usual—but we've grown so used to a cloudy sky that I think we'd go fucking _blind_ if the sun decided to show up.

Anyway, suspense and all that jazz happened as Bebe and I walked the short distance to her old little red car. Only when we were inside with the doors securely locked, did I take off my goggles and throw the bat into the back seat. Bebe did the same with her golf club and shoved the keys into the ignition. The car started to life with a hiccup of protest.

"So, where to?" I asked, buckling myself in as Bebe slowly backed out from the abandoned cabin.

"Somewhere with a stove," she mumbled tiredly, putting the car in drive, "so I can eat those fucking Spaghetti O's." I chuckled and bent down to pick up the cans of food rolling around on the floor. Out of everything I'd managed to grab, the Spaghetti O's looked the most appetizing (even with those mysterious meatballs). However, I wasn't about to put my life on the line for them. Because, knowing Bebe, she'd probably palpitate me with her golf club before I could even dream of having a bite.

"Hey," Bebe said softly, turning onto an area of road that looked more developed, "so what were you thinking about earlier?"

"My mom." I lied as I dropped the food back at my feet.

"You would have been crying if it were your mom." _Fuck, she's totally right. _My mom makes me cry water falls—I'm even getting teary-eyed right now! Jesus. "Were you thinking about him?" Shit, she knew me too well.

"Maybe." I mumbled, keeping my gaze glued to the window. I was getting anxious as we talked about this, and my hands began finding something to fiddle with; the end of my jacket would have to do.

From the corner of my eye I saw Bebe roll her blue irises and sigh in frustration.

"Why do you always think about him, he's a piece of trash, especially after what he did to you."

"I—ngh—know." She's right, he really is. So why does my mind constantly seek him out? Why do I wish he were here with me right now? Fuck him. He totally played me. He knew I liked him, and even though he told me we weren't anything more than fuck buddies, I still agreed. And, I know that was probably stupid of me, but we were still friends. Even if he decided he didn't want to fool around with me anymore that would have been cool—granted I'd have been disappointed, but understood.

No, instead he just ignored me, wouldn't even talk to me; or look at me! And then, he began to _make fun of me. _He'd push me, call me names, and flip me off (although that last one wasn't much of a surprise) for doing absolutely _nothing._ The second half of junior year was hell because of him.

_You got ridiculed by most of the student body because of Craig Tucker. So, why do you still like him? _

"I hate him." I finally said, even though it wasn't true. But, the statement seemed to make Bebe feel better.

"Well, hey, forget him. He's probably dead, you know Craig's lazy ass wouldn't be able to run from zombies for long." I know she was just trying to make me feel better, but that statement didn't really help at all. I decided to pretend like it did though, if not to humor her.

And so the subject was dropped, which I was grateful for as we drove through the quiet abandoned landscape. The roads weren't as rough as before, and we took this as a good sign. A town or houses would probably pop up soon. Although, that made our chance of running into some zombies much greater than they were before. But I think I could handle them right now, I haven't really had much action in a while…and what can I say, sometimes I like it. _Oh man, does that make me a sick person? _

We were probably driving for twenty minutes when Bebe spotted a torn street sign ahead. She pulled her car slowly up to the side of the road, and told me to read it to her since it was on my side. It was pretty difficult; the green painted piece of mettle was bent crooked and torn in half. Whatever had a hold of that sign must have been strong.

The last three letters remained on the sign along with how far the town would be from here; which was 3 miles. I told Bebe this information and we were back on the road, steadily approaching this mystery town. The closer we got, the more anxious I became. My hands played with the abused hem of my thick jacket nervously. I was almost one hundred percent certain (actually more like 99.54) that we'd run into some unwelcome predators. Usually that wouldn't bug me _too _much (like I said earlier, sometimes my sick brain enjoys it), but sometimes I worry about how many we'll run into. I'm not going to lie, Bebe and I are pretty kick ass when it comes to fighting off zombies…but what if we become swarmed one day? What if we can't fight our way out? What if we become _one of them? Oh man, I'd rather kill myself! _

"Tweek," Bebe's voice ripped me away from my inner panic attack, "I can see the town up ahead." I tore my gaze from my lap and glanced toward the horizon. Sure enough, little humps of what I assumed houses and shops appeared. The closer we approached, the more it reminded me of South Park. The houses (though some of them significantly damaged) all would have looked the same—small wooden colonials—if it weren't for their different paint jobs.

The residential streets seemed deserted, so we parked into the driveway of a more intact home. I pretended not to notice the faded blood splatters marring the front door as we stepped out of the car—bats and clubs in hand.

"Okay," Bebe said quietly, her voice muffled slightly by the bandana pulled over the bottom half of her face, "when we get into the house, I'll check the first floor and you'll check the second; deal?" I nodded and secured my goggles around my eyes.

We approached this house much like the cabin in the woods, except now we had the advantage of actually being able to _see_ our enemy, unlike before. It helped calm me down a little bit, but my heart was still thumping out of my chest. For a minute, I was worried that the zombies would hear it and _come attack us! _Because, they can hear really good you know! They need to, like, find their prey or some shit so their senses are all fucking crazy powerful (that's what I assume anyway).

Bebe turned the knob experimentally, and wasn't very surprised to see that the house was left open. _Cool beans, less work for us. _

The door opened silently as we slid into the living room. Most of the furniture was destroyed: fabric torn to shreds, lamps and photos shattered on the hardwood floors, and sofa cushions torn apart. Whatever family used to live here obviously didn't walk out of the house human, the bloody tracks told the entire gruesome story for us. I couldn't focus on them that long though, because the thought of it was already bringing tears to my eyes. _Damn it, I don't even know these people and I'm weeping over them like a goddamn baby. Grow up Tweek! _

The living room seemed clear, but we had to search every room before making ourselves comfortable.

Bebe motioned toward the staircase shoved up against the back wall (much like the layout of the homes in South Park, which only triggered more stupid crying on my behalf). She then clutched the end of her gulf club tightly and disappeared into the doorway that lead into, what I guessed, the kitchen or dining room.

I climbed the staircase much like one who might climb the rickety old steps to the gallows. I was intentionally slow, never wanting to reach the top, but it was inevitable, and soon I was staring down a long dark hallway with three shut doors on either wall. Before entering any of them, I bent down and peered under the small crack of every door. From what I could see through that small sliver of space (which wasn't much) nothing seemed to be waiting to tear my face off in the room. I continued the process until every room seemed to pose little threat.

I raised my baseball bat up protectively in front of me and reached out to twist the brass doorknob of the first room. However, I never reached it because the second my hand motioned forward a shrill and frantic scream tore through out the entire house.

"_TWEEK! ALERT! FUCK! ALERT!" _

First it was Bebe's voice, then the crashing, the horrifying growls and moans of something _inhuman, _and the sickening sound of heads getting bashed in like watermelons hitting a concrete floor. The following events seemed to happen in slow motion—like they were torn off of a cliché horror movie screen and slapped into my shitty life.

I spun around to race down the stairs and help Bebe fend off the zombies downstairs. But what I saw was enough for me to high tail it in another direction: the stair way was flooded with rotting, putrid-smelling, cannibals. All of them were clawing at one another to ultimately get to me, _and eat my delicate tasty flesh! _

I wanted to throw up out of fear, disgust, anguish…you name it. I wanted to puke up all my organs and serve them to the raving zombies in front of me.

Then, I heard Bebe's voice again and it hit me like a heavy mallet, freeing me from my paralyzed terror.

"There are too many! I don't know if we can do this!"

_Fuck. _You know you're screwed when Bebe Stevens is yelling to flee, but there is no way in hell I'm making my way down those fucking stairs.

A mangled hand reached toward me as a zombie finally managed its way to the top of the steps. I screeched and swung my bat with all of the strength my scraggly arms could muster. You'd be surprised at how strong adrenaline can make you; because after only a few swings and throat wrenching wails I took the fucker's head clear off.

"_That's right! Stay dead mother fucker!" _

It didn't take long before the next one was on me, and I showed it the same hospitality as I did the previous. Thick black blood spattered onto the end of my bat and across the clear plastic covering of my goggles. For a moment, I was swinging blindly because the blood was obstructing my vision. There was no way I could keep this up, so (after bashing the head in of my fifth victim) I kicked forward the limp corpses at my feet, creating panic among the other zombies as they ripped at their dead peers in confusion, consuming the decaying flesh. It gave me enough time to lock myself into one of the rooms.

My hands were trembling so bad that I almost dropped my bat, but adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, so luckily I didn't have to deal with the insanity of my mind just yet.

I knew the zombies would sniff me out soon, so I wasted no time in getting my shit together. The first thing I did was wipe the goopy blood off of my goggles. With improved vision, I saw that I was in a bedroom, probably for guests since it lacked decorations and photos that most rooms have. There was a small closet in the corner and I immediately ran toward it, closing myself inside the dark area. _Maybe I can wait this out. Maybe Bebe's going to come and rescue me_.

However, I quickly learned that hiding in the closet could be the last decision that I'd ever make. Because a second after I shut the door, a cold clammy hand slithered its way around my face and clamped tightly over my mouth.

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** Oh cliffhanger, cool. So, people like this? Haha that makes me so happy oh my gosh, the reviews are all so great to read and really inspire me to write more and more. **

**I'd like to thank x-Nymph, SparklesMakeMeHappy, Jocelyn-Awesome, NightinggaleLost, Fr34k-Out, and Taylorgb for leaving awesome reviews! **

****And a shout out to Syrina who is awesome and amazing and everything, and been feeling sick, I really hope you feel better!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park. **

**-Warning: Violence. And also, take another look at the summary, if the idea of this story freaks you out, then I would stop reading here.- **

***Anonymous reviews are now accepted (if that pertains to any of you)**

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**Chapter Three **

The hand that had secured itself around my mouth was clammy and thin; I could feel each individual bone beneath the slim layer of skin. Whatever this limb was attached to, it wasn't human. I probably had only a few more seconds to act before it _ripped into the back of my neck and began devouring me like an afternoon snack! _Luckily though, I still had my bat, so I acted accordingly:

The hand didn't have a very strong grip on my mouth; in fact, it began to recede (_probably to tear open my back). _But, I never gave the thing behind me the chance because I spun around, my bat hitting the corners of the small closet, and swung blindly in the direction of which I assumed the _cannibal_ must have been hiding.

I felt the hard wood of my bat collide with skin and bone followed by a rough groan of the victim. I didn't want to risk more time than necessary in complete darkness, so I used the extra time to spin back around and twist open the closet door. I prayed to whatever god that was watching over me that the zombies from the hall hadn't made their way inside the bedroom. I was also hoping that Bebe was okay, I didn't hear any of her screams. Yet, at the moment, I had my own problem to deal with. Awaiting the monster's reemergence from the closet, I held the bat securely in front of myself in the darkness. I knew I had only injured the creature; I had swung too low for a clean headshot and chances were I had only struck it in the side.

My grip tightened around the base of the bat; knuckles blanching a stark white. I saw a shadow appear from the back of the closet, and I held my weapon tightly enough that I could feel the rough texture of wood through the thick hide of my brown gloves. I was ready to decapitate the thing as soon as it showed itself and came fully into the light. I raised the bat above my head, positioning for the fatal blow, about to kill this _fucker_... but I hesitated.

Hesitating is stupid, hesitating can get you killed. My emotions are already shot to hell, almost impossible to control, so when I saw him crawl out of the closet, gurgling thick black blood onto the carpet, I couldn't bring down the bat. I couldn't crush his skull. I knew this kid. Jesus Christ, I knew him—!

"_Craig?"_ My voice caught in my throat, before bubbling out of my mouth. I probably sounded more dying animal then human, my voice cracking on the single syllable.

When Craig raised his head and looked up at me, I was sure of one thing. He was a zombie, alright. Though, he wasn't the worst I've seen by far. He looked newly turned, his flesh still hung on his bones, there were no missing chunks of skin on his face, and he was still in possession of all his limbs (and he still had his ratty hat on— how he managed that feat, I'm not sure).

There were marks of the change marring his features. For one his skin was so pale that it was almost translucent, a taunt blue stretching over his cheekbones. He had injuries on his arms, cuts and slices that crusted over with the same black blood that he was retching moments ago. His trademark blue jacket was torn, and his irises which used to be frost blue— in contrast with his jet black hair— were now completely swallowed by black. His pupils had dilated like those of the deceased, and the color was now only a fond memory. And the smell, Jesus, even at my distance of a couple feet I could smell it.

There was a resemblance to the guy I'd known before, but the Craig kneeling in front of me, groaning and rubbing the layered blood off his forearm, looked like an entirely different person (ugh... well... zombie, I should say).

I needed to kill him. I _had _to kill him! What if he sprung up from his crouching position and decided to slaughter me? _I can't let my stupid emotions spare him, he's just another zombie, he's just another zombie. Think of all of the times he ridiculed you, hurt you! You hate him! You hate him! Kill him!_

I lifted the bat back for a second time, my intention to kill him and then forget this whole ordeal... but I hesitated, again.

"_Fuck." _Craig sputtered while wobbling to his feet. I jumped back, keeping a large gap between the two of us. My focus was on Craig, and Craig only, the threat posed from outside was somewhere back in my mind where I couldn't reach it. I knew that I should be taking this chance to clobber him, spatter his brain on the ground, but a part of me wanted to hear him talk. Briefly I was surprised he could even speak at all, his brain should be rotted to the core by now leaving all but survival instinct which told him to hunt. _ Hunt me._

Craig's sunken black eyes found their way to my horrified face and lingered there for a moment before speaking, his voice rough from ill use.

"Tweek." Speaking as though he were seeing me for the first time, he recognized who I was. If I wasn't certain before, I knew now that I couldn't split his head like a watermelon. He shouldn't be talking, even less _remembering. _

I held the bat out in front of of me as a warning, stretching my arm horizontally until it was like I was pointing at Craig with a large wooden accusing finger.

"You're a zombie." I snarled—at least I tried to, but my voice cracked, so that didn't really happen. I guess I more…whimpered.

"Is that why my breath smells like rotten kitten shit?" Craig spat.

I didn't have time to appreciate his sarcasm. My mind was reeling. I've never encountered something like this before. Craig's supposed to be doing zombie things: moaning nonsense, grabbing for my _delicious flesh_, or at least eating his own hand or something. Instead, he's being _sarcastic _with me?

Despite this, I was not about to let my guard down. Craig was a zombie, so I had to shove any personal feelings aside for my own safety.

"How long has it been since you've been infected?" I demanded waving my bat at him. Craig eyed it wearily before responding.

"A few days after these fuckers showed up." He said truthfully, keeping his black eyes glued to my lifeline. "Holy shit dude, I can't believe you're alive."

I ignored his last comment, to concentrate on the first that left his blue-tinged lips— he'd been bitten when the zombies first came. That must have been months ago, if I was keeping track of time right. There must have be something different about the way Craig's body worked, or a mutation of the virus that I'm not aware of; by all accounts he should be a pile of rotting mush. He's not decaying, not at the rate he should be anyhow, and that can be dangerous for someone like me.

"What—ngh—are you doing here? You hunting?" I asked, taking a step in Craig's direction.

"This is—was—my cousins house, we fled here after South Park went under." _Well, didn't seem like the best decision._ Curiosity struck me with its annoying little hammer (or whatever the hell it has) and I found myself anxious about what he did that awful day. But again, I shoved that to the back of my mind; I had bigger if I were less stressed out I would have gone into the topic of fate with the whole, "_what are the chances we'd run into each other here",_ and all that nonsense. This wasn't the time though, I could have a chance to reflect on that later.

"You never answered my question, are you hunting?" I asked again.

"Well I—"

"H-have you hunted?" The million-dollar question.

"You see—"

"Who have you—agh—killed?" I took another step forward. "How many people did you eat to stay alive?" With each question, my shaky long legs brought me another step closer to Craig, and he began to look more and more nervous. I liked this, being in control…something that rarely happened to me (and maybe it just felt sweeter because of _who_ I was in control over). "I'm going to kill you." I informed him. Craig's eyes widened and almost popped out of their sockets. But before he could even speak, or I could even raise the bat a _third _and final time; all hell broke loose.

The bedroom door swung forcefully open, almost ripping from its rusty hinges. I screeched in alarm and immediately swung around to catch sight of the same animated corpses I'd come across on the stairs.

I backed myself up against the far wall of the bedroom quickly, the last thing I needed was a zombie to catch me off guard from behind. Bebe wasn't here to save my ass like other times, so the wall would have to do. My eyes widened to the point where they were in danger of popping right out of my head! My hands trembled as I clung to the bat desperately, waiting for the zombies to get close enough so I could try and plow my way through them.

Then I remembered just who was in this room with me, and my eyes darted to the area of which we'd been talking. Craig was watching the zombies with a strange expression I didn't bother to interpret. The monsters, having no interest in him, trudged past his still figure. My suspicions were that Craig would only watch as the zombies _tore me limb from limb_ and then see if there was anything to pick at from my _destroyed carcass. Jesus fucking Christ, not today!_

An incredibly decayed zombie— jaw unhinged, with only one eye, and putrid flesh slipping of yellowed bones— reached me first and I propelled into action, bringing my bat forward an smacking the wood right into the zombie's cheek. The skin holding it's neck to it's head tore easily, almost like paper, and the head popped clean off. A thick wave of black blood spattered onto my front, adhering to the lens of my goggles. _No not now, not now. _I needed complete visibility.

It'd take more than just one good swing to kill the rest of the horde. It just so happened that this crew was in bad shape, so picking them off was easy. I got to work, running on strength boosted with adrenaline. I had several close calls, zombies ripping at my clothes, and some making as close as a mere foot away. My heart was pounding in my chest, a deafening thump in my ears, it wouldn't matter if I could defeat all these zombies _because I'll probably have a heart attack first! _

Headless bodies began to pile up at my feet, and I decided to use them as a makeshift barrier like I did with the first one I had killed out in the hall. I shuffled forward, and pushed the bodies with my legs. Without my back against the wall I felt exposed, bare without it's protection. I just had to keep my guard up. _I can do this. _

Swing.

Swing.

Swing.

Kill.

Swing.

Swing.

Swing.

Kill.

After only a few minutes of this routine, I could feel my adrenaline push waning, and my swings becoming progressively weaker. There were too many of them, I was swamped, surrounded. Whenever I managed to kill a zombie, immediately another would rise to take its place.

Black blood dripped down the front of my goggles, obscuring my vision. I shook my head from side to side in a desperate attempt to dislodge the cloying liquid. My arms felt like noodles, my breath escaped in exhausted gasps, and my legs shook so violently that I had begun to believe they'd snap and give way at any moment. My swings didn't carry enough power anymore, they barely did any damage, not enough to kill a zombie only enough to stun them. I was too beat to think the paranoid thoughts that plagued my mind constantly. I was too beat to worry about when I lost my footing, and fell back against the wall while my bat rolled away. I was too beat to do anything when I saw the rotten cannibals rush toward me; all I did was close my eyes and wait.

_I hope Bebe got away. _

But nothing happened.

I waited to feel my skin get peeled from my body, soft rotten teeth dig into my flesh, and gnarled hands rip at my clothes. I knew the zombies were still here; their groans and awkward footing still filled the room with horrifying volume. I didn't want to open my eyes though, because what if the simple action was keeping them away? What if I had _super powers _to repel zombies whenever I shut my eyes? God, it would have been really convenient to know that beforehand!

However, once the _noises _started, I had to reevaluate my previous notion. The moans from the monsters changed pitch to an almost screech-like sound. I also heard the repulsive swish of limbs being torn from bodies. It sounded like someone grabbed the leg of a moist rotisserie chicken, and was twisting it experimentally before finally popping it off. If I'd eaten, no doubt my food would have spewed out of my mouth. I also heard chewing, the loud gum-popping kind, like whoever was doing it had too much food in their mouth.

So now I had two ideas of what the fuck was going on around me. The first was Bebe finally got herself up here and was kicking some zombie ass; the strange sound just a side affect from my exhausted delusions. The second idea was that the zombies suddenly turned on each other and began eating themselves, which resulted in the sickening noises I continued to hear.

As I slowly opened my eyes, I hoped desperately for it to be the first. However, what I saw was more close to the latter.

Several more corpses littered the floor than before, some of them had large chunks missing from their body. My gaze panned upwards, and no matter how much I wanted to _stop _staring at the disturbing scene in front of me, I simply couldn't.

Craig was among these zombies, black blood spilled down the front of his jacket and pouring from his mouth down to his chin. But the blood wasn't his: because he was _eating _the other zombies. His pale hands shot out to attack his next victim, twisting the monsters arm until it cracked right off. He took a hardy bite of the fleshy arm (which made me want to vomit again) before casting it aside and grabbing the zombie in a headlock, squeezing the soft decaying skull until it cracked open and eating the gray gooey brain matter inside like ramen noodles.

I didn't recognize the look in Craig's eyes. It was like he wasn't Craig at all-certainly not the confusing zombie that I ran into in the closet. No, now he looked like a predator. Moving from zombie to zombie, eating chunks of his own kind at the speed of a hungry lion. He only stopped once the last zombie fell.

_ He's going to eat me now! _

My body still ached with exhaustion, but I'd be damned if _Craig Tucker _ate me in the end. So, with the strength fueled from my pathetic emotional past, I stood on my shaky thin legs and immediately began looking around for my baseball bat. Luckily, it hadn't rolled far and I soon spotted it underneath the headless corpse.

I glanced back at Craig carefully, where he was still munching on an unidentifiable part of a body. I didn't let my gaze waver as I slowly crouched, carefully grasping the end of my bat and rising up to stand once again. I lifted my bat slowly, and then swung with all my might at the back of Craig's head.

I was actually proud of myself for not hesitating this time; however, it didn't really matter because Craig dodged the damn swing.

"What the hell?" Craig growled as he spun around to face me.

"Erg—stay still!" I snarled, using my bat again. Craig's black eyes widened and he jumped to the side quickly.

"Dude, what are you doing? I just saved your ass!" He called, taking another fast step back when I tried to hit him a third time.

"Just so you can eat me!" I hissed, lunging toward him and this time barely hitting his side.

"_Ow fuck!_" Craig seethed, grabbing at the area I'd hit him with pale, blood stained hands. "If I wanted to eat you, I would've done it in the closet."

_Valid point. But, not valid enough for a paranoid fuck like me. _

"You want to," swing, "take your," swing, "sweet time," swing, "to finish me!"

"Don't flatter yourself." Dodge. "Listen," dodge, "I'm not going to," dodge, "eat you." Dodge. "You should—_ouch—" Ha, nice hit, "_be thanking me for saving your life!"

"I don't believe you!" I felt my energy draining again. Jesus, Craig was fast. I never remembered him moving so fast before. When we had gym class together his slow ass finished the mile in twenty minutes! "You crave flesh!"

"I just ate all those motherfuckers!" Craig spat irately.

"Doesn't matter! If zombies could eat other zombies, then this wouldn't be the end of the world, would it?" I swung the bat weakly, and wasn't too surprised when Craig managed to catch the end of it, holding it firmly in his grip. He narrowed his eyes threateningly.

"Brains are brains, flesh is flesh. Whether you're a zombie or not, nothing changes that. The difference is," Craig leaned in toward me and I crinkled my nose while leaning back in disgust, _his breath really does stink_, "one is less satisfying and tastes like shit, while the other doesn't. I'll let you guess which is which.

As long as there are living people left, they'll do anything to eat 'em instead."

I pulled at my bat weakly and Craig let it go confidently, crossing his arms across his dirty stained jacket. I eyed him wearily before questioning, "Then why aren't you in this 'race' to eat everyone?" Craig's eyes narrowed again when he answered me.

"I had to watch my family slowly become these damn things, waiting for the same thing to happen to me. I don't know if there's something wrong with me, but for whatever reason I never fully turned. I'm not going to bullshit you, it's fucking tempting. But, I'd like to think that I'm above," Craig's gaze darted to the corpse ridden ground, "them."

I let my arm drop to my side and pursed my lips contemplatively. "I don't remember you being this noble." I finally said.

"I don't remember you being such an asshole." Craig scoffed.

I probably could have brought up a number of reasons for my behavior toward him, but I still had other stuff on my mind.  
"I'm going to—ngh—let you join us." I said. I figured this action could result in more security for Bebe and me. Plus, if Craig turned on us, Bebe and I could probably take him together and kill him. The shit that had happened between us was in the past, I wasn't about to be a pussy and pass up a nice opportunity.

"Us?" Craig inquired.

"Bebe and me."

"Bebe? As in _Bebe Stevens?" _Craig sighed dramatically. "_She's _with you?" Hm, some things don't change, I suppose.

"Yes. And s-she might need us right now!" I left the bedroom quickly and began descending the carpeted staircase.

I heard Craig's hesitant footsteps behind my own, and was unsure of what I would find on the floor below.

* * *

**And there we have it. I'd like to thank x-Nymph, bernaisbeast, and TweekingOut for the lovely comments. Please feel free to leave a review about anything lol! **

***Special thanks to shah-lala for making AMAZING fan art! **

****AND Syrina who is the best person in the world!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Chapter Four **

_It's quiet…too quiet. _

"Tweek, what the fuck are you doing? This isn't some kind of James Bond movie, and your damn bat isn't a gun so stop holding it like that." Craig spat, crossing his arms across his dirty chest and stomping off of the last stair.

Clearly he thought I was joking around when I dove from the staircase to the living room, rolling behind a destroyed couch and holding my baseball bat up against my chest. But, I was actually completely serious. I needed to be stealthy, because—unlike Craig's undead ass—the zombies will smell me and _eat me alive. _

I peeked over the edge of the green ripped fabric only to find the living room completely clear of monster cannibals. Well, save for one.

"Hey—ngh—you can sniff things out r-right?" I asked, standing up from my crouched position.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Craig frowned, looking somewhat offended by my wording.

"C-Can you hear things better than normal too?" I murmured, carefully stepping toward the closed doorway to which I saw Bebe enter.

"A bit." Craig answered, following my silent footsteps.

"Is there anything coming from the other side of this door?" I asked, carefully placing a gloved hand on the knob and twisting it slowly.

Craig paused, playing with the ends of his chullo hat with his blue tinted fingers.

"Nope." He responded.

This answer caused a mixed reaction to take place within me. On one hand, there weren't any zombies on the other side of that door to rip me apart. But, on the other, that meant that Bebe wasn't there, or if she was—she wasn't moving.

"Are you sure?" I asked desperately, clutching the knob incredibly tight. I glanced back at Craig for reassurance, but all I received was a roll of his black dead eyes.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure." Asshole.

Without further hesitation, I pushed the door open and was met with…an empty kitchen—save for a few decapitated corpses littering the ground. I looked around the tiled room desperately, although there would be nowhere for her to hide in here. The marble counters were splattered with black blood, but I was relieved that none of the gruesome liquid dribbling down the walls and tables belonged to a human.

I immediately dropped my baseball bat and buried my leather-clad hands deep into my hair, and pulled on it painfully (what can I say, old habits die hard).

"Jesus Christ! She's gone!" I wailed, running to the cabinets and throwing them open. There were multiple bags of chips, pretzels, and crackers inside; and if I were in the right state of mind, I would have snatched them to save as food for later. But, my brain wasn't working rationally at the moment, which happens from time to time.

I mean, Bebe was _gone. She was gone! _The only human being I've interacted with since the infection took over just _vanished _into thin air. I wasn't prepared to face that! So, my thoughts began running wild, disbanding logic for the idea that she must be hiding in one of these cabinets. She's totally behind this bag of _Cheetohs_, or hiding in the refrigerator under the spoiled milk. Each time I didn't find her, I'd toss the piles of food onto the floor.

A desperate whimper escaped my throat when a hand wrapped around my wrist, yanking it away from the rotten meat I was about to fling to the side. Only now did I realize that I'd started crying, tears pooling at the bottom edge of my goggles.

I tore my arm from Craig's grasp, pushing my goggles up onto my forehead and furiously wiping at the hot tears that began to leak from my eyes. The fact that I was crying in front of someone didn't make it any better either, and just made me cry more.

How long was I upstairs? Was it even long enough for something to happen to Bebe? Then I turned my head to look at Craig; he was staring back at me with a tense expression, like he wasn't sure how to go about this. He seemed to be on the verge of awkwardly comforting me, or yelling at me for being an idiot. I didn't let either happen though.

"Don't ever touch m-me." I spat at him, rubbing the thick fabric of my green jacket as if I'd been infected just by his touch. Craig frowned, his bushy eyebrows furrowing from underneath his greasy black bangs.

"Excuse me for stopping you from having a fucking mental breakdown in the kitchen." He growled back. "Throwing food around isn't going to make Bebe magically reappear."

I glared at Craig hotly, picking up my baseball bat among the squished bags of food. This was his _entire fault. _It's always his fault.

"I-if it weren't for you, I would have gotten down here quicker!" I cried, walking toward Craig until his back was against the wall. I held my baseball bat to his chest, and he stared down at it with a raised brow. "I should have killed you in the closet! Ah! I'm crazy! Bringing a _zombie _along with me! What was I thinking?"

Craig's black eyes hardened, and he fixed me with a terrifying glare of his own.

"If it weren't for _me," _he rumpled, taking the end of the bat in his hand and lowering it from himself slowly, "you'd be major zombie chow."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, and tore myself away from Craig; instead to leave the kitchen and walk back into the living room. I could hear him following behind me slowly.

I couldn't deny that he was right. Disgusting zombie or not, he saved my life, and I could be crawling around up there moaning for brains. _He could still be saving you for dessert. _A small voice in the back of my head reminded me, but I shushed it promptly. I'd worry about that later.

"Does this house have a basement?" I asked, coming to a halt in the center of the room. Craig came up beside me, absently wiping at the blood ground into his jacket.

"Nope." He replied, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "She might have baled out if the zombies were too much."

I shook my head at Craig's notion. Bebe wouldn't run out like that, at least not before finding a way to let me know. _Maybe there was no way to get to you. _

Shuffling to the window at the front of the house, I peered out the smudged glass to make sure there weren't any _cannibalistic animated bodies _stumbling around. And, while zombies weren't roaming the streets, the view in front of my made me gasp.

Bebe's beat up Honda remained parked in the driveway. The doors were still closed, and it looked just the way we left it. However, that's not the part that caused a million paranoid voices to scream in my head. The decaying lawn sported large indentations that could only belong to some sort of large vehicle. It must have been heavy, like an SUV or small truck, because the tracks dug into the ground harshly. They were probably an inch or two deep and led right up to the concrete porch outside the front door.

"C-Craig! Someone must have taken her!" I shouted, instantly ripping the large door open and stepping out into the fresh, still air. "How could this have happened? Ngh—we were only upstairs for, like, twenty minutes man! Agh! I should h-have been listening, I-I should have been able to help! I—"

"Tweek!" Craig barked, his putrid breath curling around my ear. I winced and shuffled away from where he'd planted himself next to me. "Calm down, you can't blame yourself for this, alright?" He crouched down next to the imprints and prodded at them curiously.

"But we're never going to find her!" I cried, instantly grabbing at my frayed hair again. Did the government take her? Did some kind of cult group?

Craig stood up quickly, growling and reaching toward me, but he hesitated, his dead hands returning to his sides. "We might be able to track her." He said quietly, as if embarrassed by the idea. "Every…person…leaves a scent trail." He mumbled. "It's—uh—it's how zombies always manage to find people."

"You're a zombie." I said, as if Craig wasn't aware of the fact. "So, y-you can smell Bebe right now?"

"I can smell four people, not including you. I don't know which one's Bebe, but if they took her…" Craig paused, I watched with sick fascination as he inhaled deeply, using a technique so many monsters have used to deplete the human race, "that way." He pointed to our left, farther down the residential road and into town.

I pursed my lips before glancing at Bebe's car. The keys should still be in the ignition. We usually kept them in there incase we needed a quick get away.

"We'll take her car." I said while wrenching the driver's side open and plopping myself down into the worn leather seat, throwing my baseball bat into the back. Honestly, I wasn't the best driver. I'd never gotten my license. I have my permit though! It was just; my driver's test didn't go to well…as in, I had a panic attack before the instructor even got into the car. I haven't driven since.

Craig seemed to be concerned with the current situation as he sat down in the passenger seat, eying me up and down skeptically and asking, "You can drive?"

"W-Well, you know, I can drive—ngh—a little." I muttered nervously, buckling my seat belt and turning the keys stuck in the ignition. The small car sputtered to life shortly.

"_A little? _Jesus Christ, get out, I'll drive." Craig mumbled, already motioning to open his door.

"No!" I screeched, making the rotten kid beside me wince and glare in my direction. "You can't drive! I've got this!" I pressed my foot lightly on the gas petal, and was horrified when the car didn't move. _Oh God, it's broken! _

"It's still in park you dumb ass." Craig snipped, taking the knob to my right in his hand and thrusting it into reverse. I shrieked as the car began to ease backwards, stomping my foot on the brakes. "And, I can drive. I got my license."

"No you can't!" I insisted. "You're a zombie, and z-zombies can't drive!"

"The hell Tweek?" Craig growled. "I think we can both agree that I'm more than capable of doing things that other _zombies _can't. I'm pretty sure I can drive."

"Doesn't change the fact—ngh—that you're a walking dead man." I snapped back, focusing my gaze on the rear view mirror and easing my foot off of the brakes. My comment seemed to quiet Craig down for the time being, and I managed to back out of the driveway successfully. The car crawled down the road (I had to be careful, didn't want to crash into anything!) slowly, and Craig kicked at the cans at his feet impatiently.

"You have to let me drive," he said roughly, I could tell he was still angry about my earlier remark, "or I won't tell you which direction they went in."

The car lurched to a quick halt.

"_What? _That's not fair man!" I cried.

"Yeah it is. I've got the trail, so I get to drive." Craig muttered simply. "Besides, it's better than letting you kill us in some freak accident."

_You can't kill what's already dead, _is what I wanted to say, but I held it back.

"Fine." I sighed after a long moment, turning the car off and unbuckling my seat belt.

We were on the road for probably two minutes before the gaslight turned on.

"Fuck man, the car's going to break down!"

"No it's not, we just need to find a gas station." Craig said, rolling his eyes as if my worries were irrelevant. "I know there's one up here…not too far off the trail." He mumbled, turning onto an almost exact replica of Main Street. It was really nostalgic, and I didn't like it one bit. Tears would soon prickle in my eyes if I began thinking about South Park.

"S-So," I said uneasily, "you can actually smell them, even in this—agh—car, with me?"

Craig was quiet for a moment, his hands shifting on the steering wheel uncomfortably.

"Not really so much in here, your stench kind of blocks out the rest." He snorted as I glared at him. _Fuck you, I bet I smell great. _"But, uh, there's also like an actual trail. Kind of like someone was dragging around a smoke machine or some shit. So, it doesn't matter much that I can't smell it well, I can see it." He mumbled all of this like it was no big _deal _he could _see a misty trail of people's scent leading him to his prey! _Well, in this case, it was actually quite useful. I could question Craig more about this skill he obtained (it explained why zombies kept finding us), but I decided to ask about something much less important.

"How do I—ngh—smell?" I asked. Craig barely even paused before responding.

"Weird."

I crinkled my nose at that.

"What do you mean?" I snipped back, slightly offended.

"Like, I don't know," Craig sighed, glancing at me with his dead eyes, "you smell tangy, sour, like a lemon or something."

"Jesus! I'm not a lemon!" I cried indignantly while Craig let out a snort of laughter. It sounded strange, unnatural, like he wasn't used to emitting such a sound. It didn't last long though as he slowed down and pulled into a deserted Shell gas station.

"Are you ever—erg—tempted to…e-eat people? Me?" I asked quietly after he'd put the car into park next to a run down pump. Craig was quiet for a long time, so I wasn't surprised when he softly answered,

"Yeah. The worst part is, I can't even fucking just get over it. I crave it y'know? It's only natural." He said bitterly. "So I guess, I want to eat you, but I won't…give me some credit, I've got self control."

That was sweet but, being an asshole to Craig is too much fun, so while my mind could have gone out on a paranoid rampage (which I'm sure it will do later), instead it went into a different direction.

"Do you f-find me _irresistible?" _I asked, smirking and making a kissy face at the angsty zombie beside me. Craig just rolled his eyes.

"Please don't turn this into some kind of Twilight romance shit." He smirked, and my cheeks brightened angrily. _He would think that everyone wants to be with him, even when HE'S A ROTTING PILE OF SHIT. _And then I'm reminded of high school, and the hell he put me through.

"Ngh—fuck you. The last thing I want is to be in a 'romance' with _you _as my 'lover'. Remember h-how well you treated me last time?" I hissed.

Craig winced at that, immediately dragging his black irises away from me, and opening the car door quickly.

Huh. Guess he did remember.

I picked up one of the cans littering the floor near my feet: Spaghetti O's. My stomach twisted and turned, more out of anxiety than hunger. What happened to Bebe? Why would people take her? What was going on?

Craig got back into the car shortly and started it back to life.

"You don't mind if I put in a CD, do you?" I questioned, if not to get rid of the deafening silence that consumed the car.

"Go for it."

I turned on the radio and moved to the glove compartment to grab a random CD when my trembling hand stopped cold.

For the first time since the zombies appeared, a static voice played through the radio's speakers.

* * *

**Alright, there we go! Questions, comments, continue? Review please! I really want to hear what you have to say! And, the only way I know to continue is if people are actually reading this (I don't want to put up something no one likes agkdagh). So, a review would be DEEPLY appreciated ( basically just got on knees and begged). **

**Thanks to SparklesMakeMeHappy, Jocelyn-Awesome, and an awesome guest for reviewing! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park. **

**-Warning: Violence-**

* * *

**Chapter Five **

I was frozen in place, my body ridged with uncertainty and excitement. The radio. Jesus Christ, the beautiful radio! There were voices—both male—dancing around the crumpling static to deliver an important message to _any _survivor that could tune in! Like me! This message was meant for me!

My hand immediately shot out and turned the volume dial all the way up, causing Craig to hiss irritably as loud static filled the car. To my disappointment, I could barely catch the end of whatever message had been transmitted. And it wasn't even the entire end! It was more like…little tidbits. I was being fed tiny bites of a delicious Hope cake, but after a few crumbs, it disappeared.

_"…treatment center…research…cure…safe…survive…" _

And that was it.

Craig and I sat in silence as he drove, trying desperately to hear any more news. After ten minutes, Craig had enough of the infuriating static noise and turned off the radio, much to my dismay.

"Hey!" I protested, reaching for the radio again with a leather-clad hand, only to have it slapped away by Craig's gnarled rotten one. I brought my hand back to my chest angrily, like it was burned. "Th-these could be the people who took Bebe!"

"Who cares?" Craig answered in frustration. "I can see their trail anyway. So the radio can stay off." He grumbled.

I slumped childishly in my seat, crossing my arms tightly in front of my chest. Stupid Craig and his stupid zombie hearing. "You know, Bebe was right." I blurted, despite the fact that Craig would have no idea what I was talking about.

"About what?" He asked dully, turning a corner so that we were once again plunged into blocks carrying identical homes.

"You. S-She said you'd probably be dead by now. Too lazy to run away from the zombies."

"Were you talking about me behind my back or something?" Craig scoffed, looking at me irritably with his piercing black eyes. "You know, I don't have to help you out. Without me, you'd have no way of finding her." His threat was venomous, but didn't sink in. I didn't think he was serious, but apologized regardless.

"Sorry." I mumbled, looking out the window as Craig drove on. Jesus, how far did these people get? The houses began thinning out, becoming smaller and smaller. We must have been reaching the town limits. Suddenly, my curiosity piqued.

"Hey," I turned my gaze back to Craig as he continued to stare at a trail I couldn't see, "on-on the radio, the voice said treatment center. You think they found a cure?"

"It'd be nice if they did." Craig shrugged. "Then my teeth wouldn't be as yellow as my piss."

"Gross!"

"Yep."

The car ride dulled down to an awkward silence after that. I watched as we passed a destroyed sign marking the town limits and frowned. Where the hell were these people? Who were these people? And how had they managed to take Bebe so silently. I should have heard her.

We were on a long stretch of road now, with nothing on either side of us except for the mountains far off on the horizon. My stomach rumbled crossly, and I instantly regretted not grabbing some easy snack food from the kitchen. The cans rolling at my feet were taunting me. They were right _there, _but without anything to cook them with, the cans might as well be nothing.

Craig peered over at me after a particularly loud groan from my stomach. He raised a thick eyebrow before asking, "You hungry?"

"A bit." I confessed, my stomach mumbling in agreement after I spoke. _Oh god, what if Craig's hungry too? Holy shit, he's going to eat you, even if you smell like a lemon! _"W-what about you?"

"Are you being serious?" Craig scoffed, taking a rotten hand from the wheel and motioning to his person. "Don't you remember, I—uh—just ate."

I scrunched up my nose at the memory: Craig cracking open some zombie's skull to slurp it's gooey brain out, and stuffing his face full of fatty rotten flesh. Actually, now that I looked at him, I realized how much we needed to stop. I mean, Jesus Christ, Craig already looked gross with being dead and all, but I was so caught up in his change that I barely recognized the mess all over his jacket.

The blue cloth was almost completely tattered, so I could see his white (or, well, what used to be white) undershirt. Most of Craig's jacket was stained with ground in zombie blood—thick and black—marring the fabric and parts of the shirt underneath it. The majority of the blood was streaked down the front, where it had dripped from Craig's jaw and onto his jacket. While Craig looked unsettling enough by just _being _a zombie, the clothes made him even harder to look at.

"You need new clothes." I voiced, reaching a gloved hand over the short distance between us and plucking at the gross material of Craig's jacket. My stomach growled in agreement.

"Dude, worrying about my fashion sense shouldn't be number one on your priority list right now." Craig mumbled.

My face flushed and I was tempted to slap Craig across the face, but I didn't want my precious gloves touching his nasty body. It _wasn't _the first thing on my "priority list", not by a long shot! I just…I couldn't help but notice! My mind like's to wander when nothing's happening, even if it has more important thoughts swirling around in there. That's the thing about how my mind works, sometimes I have trouble sorting it out, and voicing my thoughts without really thinking about it.

"I-I was just being observant. I don't—ngh—have some kind of weird 'zombie's only' trail that I can look at to pass t-the time." I snipped.

"That doesn't even make sense."

I decided to go back to ignoring Craig, because he was starting to piss me off. _Huh, he seems good at that. _The only sound that filled the car was my stomach growling occasionally, begging for some food. I tried my hardest to ignore it, by focusing on other things. Like the radio broadcast. The static voice mentioned a…treatment center? I didn't know there were treatment centers lying around! And _cure? _Was there a cure already? Were there a lot of people in the treatment center? Is this whole catastrophe finally dying down?

Where would Craig end up if everything went back to normal? Would they kill him?

_Who cares? _

"Tweek." Craig's nasally voice ripped me out of my own head. "There's an exit to a Target up here. You could probably find something to eat real quick so I don't have to listen to your goddamn stomach all day." He griped, motioning out the window where I spotted a dirty sign that read: _Target, 2.5 miles. _

"You're not going to lose sight of the trail, are you?" I asked warily, glancing back to Craig. That trail was our only chance of finding Bebe. "Like, it's not going to fade or something?"

"Naw." Craig shook his head. "They take a few days to fade."

"O-Okay. Then stopping there is—ngh—probably a good idea." I decided, pulling my goggles down and over my eyes. Craig scoffed at the action, but I ignored him. After all, there's a reason _I'm _still human, and he isn't. Plus, we're going to a fucking Target, man! Zombies are probably crawling all over the aisles and shit. I didn't plan on staying there long.

We pulled up to the large building about ten minutes later. Luckily, it wasn't too far from the main stretch of road we were just on. The windows were smashed and a few items littered the concrete near the windows—like clothing, food, and an assortment of sports equipment. The parking lot held a few cars that seemed abandoned or forgotten long ago. Two of them had their doors wide open, and most had their windows smashed through.

The cars scared me. Obviously whoever owned these weren't able to escape—not by driving anyway. I only hoped that if they became zombies, they left the Target long ago to find food elsewhere.

Craig pulled up right in front of the automatic sliding doors. He turned the car off, but left the keys in the ignition before opening the door and stepping out of the car carelessly. Craig slammed the door loudly, and I flinched at the type of monsters that sound probably alerted. Grabbing my baseball bat from the backseat, I got out of the Accord as well, but close the door a lot quieter than Craig had.

"Are you stupid?" I hissed, glancing around cautiously before walking around the hood of the car to smack Craig lightly with the end of my bat. "Do you want every zombie in the area to come and _eat us?" _

"You."

"What?"

"You said, 'eat us', but they'd only eat you."

I swear, if Craig weren't my only way of finding Bebe I would have decapitated him right then and there in the Target parking lot.

"Whatever." I mumbled, pushing Craig in front of me with the bat like it was an extension of my arm. If there were zombies inside, they could attack Craig first. "I'm just going to find something to eat. A-And you should find a new shirt." Craig rolled his eyes, but continued on in front of me.

Much to our surprise, the automatic doors still worked, and let us into the large store easily. The inside of the Target looked like chaos. Clothes were strewn all over the place from their racks, there were carts abandoned with forgotten purchases, cash registers were emptied or broken, and the florescent lights above were either off or flickering.

"Craig," I whispered, staying close behind him, "do you—ngh—smell any zombies in here?"

"Well, that's kind of difficult to say." Craig shrugged, turning to look me up and down. "Your scent overrides any zombies by far, since you're alive and all that fun shit." I glared at him irritably. "I can't really smell anything besides you."

"D-do you hear anything then?" I asked, Craig shook his head no.

I sighed and looked around the decrepit store once more before turning back to Craig. "We shouldn't stay here long. Ahg—I'm going to go get some food, you go find something to put on."

"Dude, why do you care so much about my clothes?"

"Because," I explained, "I-I don't want to get infected, even from dried blood like that. And-And if I'm going to be traveling around with you, I don't want zombie blood anywhere near me."

"You need to take a pill, Tweek."

"I don't have any pills!"

"Jesus…alright. Let's meet back here in five minutes, it can't take much longer than that."

I agreed, and set off past the registers and messy clothing racks to go find some food.

I walked cautiously down the aisles, baseball bat held steadily in front of me. There could be zombies hiding anywhere, especially in such a large area. It didn't help that the farther I got from the doors, the darker the store became. _Goddamn it, why doesn't Target have more windows? _

Fortunately, I made it to the food area without encountering any undead monsters.

The shelves were devastatingly empty. It looked like we weren't the only people (well, person and zombie) to stop off here and grab something to eat. Weaving through the aisles carefully to see what I could find, I stumbled across a few boxes of granola bars. I warily observed my surroundings once again before lowering my bat down and turning to give the shelf my full attention.

Granola bars would probably be the best kind of snack to bring with me. They were filling, didn't really expire in a short amount of time, and probably wouldn't make me sick. There were only two boxes left on the shelf, so I grabbed them both and was on my way.

It was just when I was walking under a flickering light when I heard a crude shuffling to my left. I immediately stopped and held the boxes in one hand while the other held my bat nice and high. The noise sounded again and I turned my head sharply to the left, but only saw an empty and dark aisle.

_Deep breaths, Tweek. _I reminded myself, turning my head forward again and lengthening my stride. It might be a rat or something. _You don't have time to go find out what it is, just go meet Craig by the door. _The minute I stepped out of the flickering light, something _slammed _into my back. Hard. It felt like a car had been speeding behind me and suddenly ran into my spine.

I fell forward and onto the floor, taking extra care not to lose my bat as my face collided with the hard tile. The first thing I became aware of was the searing pain that shot up from the base of my nose, to between my eyes once my nose connected with the floor. Warm liquid immediately gushed down my lips and chin, pooling onto the white ground. My nose may have just broken, but that had to take a back seat in the current situation I was in.

I spun around, and my wide eyes glued to the rotting creature that had pushed me down. Shit, this one was newly turned—an employee by the looks of the tattered uniform—which meant it'd be harder to kill.

The zombie snarled before rushing forward, it's mouth gaping open to snag a bite of my flesh. I lifted a boot-clad foot and kicked it away, but it held its balance much better than I thought it would, and was coming at me again. I didn't have any time to get up, so I tried kicking the monster again, but this time I wasn't so lucky with my aim, and I missed.

The zombie was on me in an instant. I'd put my bat horizontally in front of my face just in time. The zombie was momentarily stopped, snapping its teeth inches away from my face like a rabid dog. This zombie was small, but insanely strong, it was a female; and it wanted to eat me like _today's lunch! _

"F-Fuck!" I screeched, trying to push it away. I'll be damned if I get bit because of _one zombie. _

A sudden flash of blue and gray caught both of our attention, and in a blur, the raving cannibal was ripped away from me. I jumped up from the floor as fast as I could; ready to smash this bitch's brains all over the floor. But, it looked like I didn't need to do that any more.

Craig held the frantic zombie in a headlock. Even now, it was still snarling and going crazy—trying to get to me. I could tell Craig was trying hard to keep it from breaking free as he placed a rotten hand on its forehead and forced its head back. There was a sickening crack, and suddenly, the zombie stopped flailing. Instead it moaned pitifully as Craig dropped it to the ground carelessly. It still wasn't dead as it snapped its jaw open and closed, growling and moving its head around wildly. The zombie was paralyzed from the neck down, and Craig boredly kicked it away before turning his attention to me.

I lifted my goggles up and rubbed my wet eyes. Now that the imminent threat was gone, the pain in my nose decided to return with a vengeance. I became incredibly embarrassed. Because not only did Craig have to save me, but he was also going to see me cry again.

Between the blurry curtain of my tears, I could see Craig had changed his destroyed blue jacket and under shirt for a simple gray t-shirt. His pale arms were exposed for the first time, and I could see a blackened crested moon shape marring his upper arm: his bite mark.

He made his way over to me slowly, and I continued to wipe my tears away furiously.

"I-I could have taken it." I said pathetically, referring to the still wailing zombie on the floor. I wanted to sniffle as I felt more blood ooze from my nose, but the action seemed nearly impossible with the pain I was feeling.

Craig ignored me, his blue lips setting in a deep frown. "You're nose, dude." He said quietly. "I think you broke it." He reached forward, pressing his hand gently on my tear streaked cheek. His hand was freezing, and I instantly recoiled, slapping it away from me.

"Don't touch me." I mumbled, my voice cracking. I didn't even bother to try and hide the tears now.

"I need to set it." Craig said sternly, ignoring my growing protests as both of his hands prodded the damaged cartilage. _Shit, shit, shit, shit! _

"That hurts!"

"No fuck. There's just one piece that's out of place. I'm going to put it back, okay?" My instincts immediately screamed no. But when I glanced up at his coal black eyes, I saw a glimpse (a tiny one) of the boy I'd had a crush on before he became the Asshole of the Year. So, shakily, I nodded my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

Craig counted down from three, and in one swift movement, pushed a section of my nose back into place. I screamed, and more tears burst from my eyes. Shit, that hurt just as bad as breaking it did! Craig released his hands from my face, and I dropped my bat in favor of holding my bloody nose, sobbing every curse word I could think of.

"Come on," Craig mumbled, picking up my bat and boxes of granola bars, "we should probably get back on the road."

I followed him quietly, rubbing the blood from my lips and chin onto my sleeves. I didn't know what was happening to me. But I _did_ know that I needed to pull myself together soon. Because at this rate, there is no way I'd be able to survive much longer.

* * *

**Wow, sorry for the delay. I was actually going to put this up WAY sooner, but I got a small case of writer's block during the chapter! But it's up now, so yay! So, what do you think? Should I continue? Reviews are really appreciated! **

**Thank you to x-Nymph, bernaisbeast, SparklesMakeMeHappy, awiwii, Creek Grrl, Jocelyn-Awesome, Sandy x Maxwell 4ever, HarvardDropout, and FR3AK-OuT for the lovely reviews! Seriously, the amount of reviews I got for that chapter was a really nice surprise and helped me work through my block! **


	6. Chapter 6

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park. **

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"Jesus Christ, we've been back on the road for half an hour and _you're still crying." _Craig grumbled, glancing over at me in irritation before looking back at the road. Currently, I was sniveling miserably in my seat; curled up and eating a granola bar as I watched the highway blur out the window.

Craig thought I was being ridiculous, but—in my opinion—I had about a million good reasons to be crying. The first being, I just _broke my nose and had a ZOMBIE reset it. _Let's look at this. My face was just smashed against a tile floor. Under normal circumstances (you know, before the world was over run with raving cannibals), I would have been crying anyways for _hours_ because it hurt so badly. Just remembering the engrossing crack that followed my tumble was enough to bring tears to my eyes now. But what's worse was that Craig had _touched_ my face! As far as I know, the virus can only be contracted from getting into the blood system. However, that didn't stop my paranoid mind from running rampant on theories that the infection had somehow evolved. _What if it can seep under the skin? What if it somehow got into my nose? What if I'm becoming a zombie right now and Craig's going to eat my disgusting rotting flesh? _

So after those slew of thoughts, I reminded myself that I was sitting in a car with the guy who had successfully ruined my social life in high school for _no reason _that I was aware of. Which made me cry harder, and the idea of bringing the past up just kept the tears coming.

Then, after thinking of Craig, I remembered that the only reason I'm with him is because Bebe is _missing. _And so far the only trace of her we've got is some invisible scent trail.

Lastly, thinking of Bebe made me think of everyone who's probably been eaten and haven't walked away from it as easily as Craig had.

I remained blubbering in the passenger seat quietly, finally finishing my granola bar before glaring at Craig with watery eyes.

"O-of course I'm still crying." I stammered defensively. I was pretty sure my face still had bloodstains on it as I motioned at my person. "I've got a lot to cry about."

"Well, don't." Craig rolled his eyes, his fingers twitched around the steering wheel uncomfortably. "It makes me feel awkward. I hate when people cry in front of me."

Just to spite Craig, I decided to cry a little longer.

* * *

"Where do you think they're taking her?" I asked, resting my head against the cool window. I didn't know how long we've been on this highway, but the scenery never seemed to change—dead grass, a gray sky, and maybe an abandoned car or two here and there. It's as if our car were on a treadmill, and the same pictures were being looped around us.

The pain in my nose finally dulled down to a light throbbing, and was actually easy to ignore as long as I didn't think about it. It was still sensitive though, and any time I touched it, I couldn't help but wince.

"I don't know. Maybe these people have a hide out or something." Craig said, not sounding too concerned about it.

"Y-You don't think they'll kill her, do you?" I wondered worriedly, playing with the frayed edges of my gloves before looking up at Craig curiously.

"No." He shook his head almost confidently. "Not if they're smart anyway. There aren't many people around anymore…so why would they kill her?" Craig reasoned simply. His black irises were focused and never left the road in front of us.

"Why haven't we found them yet?"

"I don't know."

"Where are they going?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't they take me too?"

"Tweek." Craig barked irritably, his hands tightened around the steering wheel. "I. Don't. Know."

I pursed my lips before turning my full attention back to my gloves, wiping at a small smudge of zombie blood that had been grinded into the leather. My mind began to wander again. I found myself staring out the window as the bleak sky slowly darkened. Shadows from old barns or trees began eating up the earth, until there was nothing left to swallow.

Craig flicked on the headlights to illuminate the barren freeway. I winced, expecting a horde of zombies to mob the car the second the lights turned on.

"Hey Craig?" I found myself asking.

"Yeah?"

"Does the—ngh—trail like, glow in the dark or something?" I sat up in my seat, curling my awkwardly long legs up against my chest.

"No." Craig answered, as if it should be obvious. "Why else would I turn on the headlights if I could already see it?" He snipped.

"I was just wondering, jeez." I grumbled, crossing my arms over my knees. "Does that mean that zombies can't hunt at night?"

"They probably can, and do." Craig shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "Just—um—they'd have to work with scent more than sight. I wouldn't really know though. I've never hunted anything."

"Anyone." I corrected.

"Anyone."

We lapsed into silence after that, but despite the late hour of the day, it felt like my curiosity was just waking up. And suddenly, I realized I knew very little about how Craig ended up the way he was.

"Why were you in a cl-closet when I found you?" I found myself resting my cheek over my arms, so that I could watch Craig instead of the dark road.

"I wouldn't really say you _found _me." Craig sniggered. "More like, stumbled upon."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes but continued watching him. "Why were you in there?"

Craig was silent for a moment, like he wasn't really sure how to answer my question. After what felt like minutes, he said, "I was hiding."

"Hiding?" I scoffed. "From what? Zombies? But you are a zombie!"

"No, not zombies." He growled, taking a decayed hand from the wheel to flip me off quickly. "I could hear and smell you guys when you pulled up to the house." Craig continued. "At first I was in the bedroom, just sort of hanging out I guess."

"Why?" I immediately asked, even though I could tell Craig wasn't finished.

"Why was I in the bedroom?"

"Yeah."

"I was tired. There were a lot of zombies around. I was going to pick one off later." He shrugged. "It became a routine."

I let those words settle in my head for a while before I spoke again. "S-so you hid in the closet because you could smell us? That doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Yeah it does." Craig disagreed, his gaze never falling from the road. "If I was just hanging around the house when two people walked in, they'd probably kill me." Fair enough.

"Wait." I said suddenly. "You knew there were zombies running around, and you didn't even _think _to warn us?"

"No." For just a second, it looked like shame flashed across his pale features, but in an instant, it was gone. I could tell that he didn't want to add the reasoning behind his answer. However, he did. "While I told myself I wouldn't eat anything—"

"Anyone."

"—Anyone, that was alive. I—I don't know." Craig said in frustration, like he had a hard time explaining. "I was hungry, and while rotten flesh fills me up…it's just that, a fresh kill or a new zombie…tastes a lot better." He admitted. As I let those words sink in, I observed how uncomfortable Craig became. He was shifting around in his seat, and occasionally pulling on the earflaps of his hat with one hand.

"So," I said slowly, processing the information I just received, "y-you were just going to _wait_ for the zombies to _kill _us? Then come out of your stupid room to eat whatever was left?"

"Um—yes." Craig answered sheepishly.

I simply glared at the side of his head. He _might as well_ be killing people, considering _there's no difference _from what he was doing! He was like…like a lion or something, that lets all the females go ahead and hunt for him while he reaps the rewards. It was sick. And once again, I was reminded of how selfish Craig Tucker really is.

"But I _didn't _do that when I realized it was you." He said quickly, as if that made things any better.

"How do you even know what a freshly turned zombie tastes like?" Was all that I retorted.

"Can we just, not talk about this?" Craig sighed, and for some reason, just by reading his body language…I didn't want to press any further.

* * *

"We should stop." Craig yawned, nearly letting his head nod off and hit the dashboard. "Rest for the night." It was the first time he'd said anything in about forty-five minutes.

My eyes darted out the window worriedly; knowing I'd never catch a glimpse of what Craig was following. "W-What if we lose the trail?"

"We won't."

I narrowed my eyes at Craig as he slowed the car down and pulled over to the side of the road. "I didn't know zombies slept." I said tartly.

"Everything sleeps, Tweek." He responded irritably. _But you're dead. _I kept that to myself though.

"W-Why did you stop the car?" I asked nervously, sitting up as Craig shifted around, turning to make his way into the backseat.

"Because, we're sleeping in here." He answered. I wrinkled my nose as Craig threw my baseball bat onto the floor carelessly, lying down on the worn backseat.

"Hey!" I whined, quickly unbuckling my seatbelt. "That's—erg—not fair! I want the backseat."

"No. Just put your seat down." Craig had already made himself comfortable. In fact, he already had his eyes closed while lying on his back, facing the ceiling of the car. His hands were folded over his stomach, and for a moment, I was frozen just staring at him. The sight was haunting. He looked so—_dead._

It was a reminder that Craig really was a talking corpse.

Then I got unreasonably angry that Craig got to be all comfortable in the backseat while I was up here, forced to scrunch up my awkwardly long body. It was probably my fatigue that made me so annoyed, feeding my brain strange excuses as to why I should be more comfortable than _him. _

_Craig's a stupid zombie that can sleep anywhere he wants without the worry of being eaten. Why should he get the back? _

_ Craig watched people die so he could have a better tasting meal. Why should he get the back?_

_ I've done nothing wrong and have been sleeping in shit places since the infection broke out. Why should he get the back? _

And they continued until I was driven to dive into the back, shove Craig down onto the narrow floor like an angry child, and claim my spot.

"What the fuck?" Craig groaned irritably, taking a minute to pop up into a sitting position and glare at my laying down form. He must've fallen on my bat.

"I want the b-back." I told him simply, sticking my tongue out.

"But I called it." Craig huffed, like that made it impossible for me to steel his seat.

"T-tough shit. You let people get eaten alive by undead cannibals because you were hungry. You don't deserve the back. " I hissed.  
"Asshole." Craig growled, and flung himself inelegantly onto the seat, trying to reclaim his territory.

From then, it was a battle to the _death. _I didn't want Craig touching me, so I fought as hard as I could to slap his gross hands from getting at any of my exposed skin. Luckily, my face was really the only skin I had out in the open and since Craig wasn't touching it, I wasn't freaking out as much as I could have been.

I still put up a good fight though, even going as far as kicking him in the stomach with a heavily booted foot. Craig fell back against the opposite door with a grunt, and for a minute I thought I actually _killed _him before he lunged forward again, seeking revenge.

What was really strange about this occurrence though, wasn't that I was letting Craig touch me (okay, maybe that was a little strange); but it was the fact that—beneath both of our disgruntled curses and noises—we were _laughing. _Like kids, play-wrestling in the back of their mom's car or something. He wasn't a zombie that could potentially end my life in one bite, and I wasn't some emotional ticking time bomb that's seen most of my family and friends get eaten alive.

He was simply Craig, and I was simply Tweek.

Craig had successfully pinned me down onto the warn leather seat. Our bodies were strangely squished together in the small space that the car provided, but we were too busy chuckling and catching out breaths to notice. I hadn't had fun like that since…well…since even before the zombies showed up, and I was still reveling in the feeling.

Which is why, none of my alarms went off when I noticed Craig's face getting closer to mine. A tiny part of my brain seemed to perk up oddly at the strange look in Craig's black eyes as he leaned down further, until I could feel his cold breath on my skin. His freezing lips brushed against mine lightly, and _that's _when I did freeze up, unsure of how to react.

Craig's eyes seemed so focused, so distant. My mind felt fuzzy; like it knew how I should be reacting, but it didn't know how to enable my body to act accordingly.

Soon, there was more pressure from Craig's mouth on mine, and I fumblingly wondered, _is Craig kissing me? _ I didn't know if I was in danger, or if Craig simply didn't know what he was doing as he applied more pressure to our "kiss". For a moment, my body just told me to go with it. After all, a kiss felt good after all the shit I've been through.

But, in a flash, I remembered…everything Craig had done, everything about this situation—Craig being a _zombie. _

Then he bit down.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter was kind of boring…it was necessary. **

**Thank you to x-Nymph, Creek Grrl, TweekingOut, Hugo the Diabolical Penguin, and Kagome Miko207 for reviewing! I love you guys so much for leaving your ****comments; they're great to read! So, what do you think?**

****And a SPECIAL thank you to Lambylin from tumblr for making an AWESOME fan art for this fic. I nearly cried when I saw it =u =. **


	7. Chapter 7

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven **

My brain snapped out of its fuzzy state in an instant. Like _BAM, _someone had pulled the trigger to a loaded gun and the reaction was immediate.

Adrenaline and fear pulsed through my limbs and gave them extra strength the second I felt Craig's teeth bite down against the soft skin of my bottom lip. A screech ripped through my throat; it was loud, ugly, and desperate. I didn't care what it attracted to the small car we were in as I continued to scream, my hands finding purchase on Craig's chest and shoving him with such force that he grunted and fell backwards, his back hitting the opposite door.

Craig looked up at me in surprise, but the hungry glint in his coal black eyes was what fueled me to assault him further. I had no idea whether or not the skin he'd bitten had been broken. I was too terrified to even check. Instead, I let pure anger and betrayal rule my actions. Hot tears sprung from my eyes as I shoved a heavily booted foot in Craig's direction, kicking him relentlessly against the small car door.

The hungry, blank stare disappeared from his eyes as I continued to kick him. He groaned in pain, trying to escape my angry thrashing as my foot pounded and crushed his ribs. I couldn't stop—_wouldn't _stop—even as he desperately tried to push my foot away. The only thing that was running through my mind was, _he bit me, he bit me, he bit me, HE BIT ME! _

"You bit me!" I wailed, halting my lashing legs to blindly reach between the seats for my bat. I was irrational, and didn't care that we were in a tiny car, and that I probably was about to do some serious damage.

"T-Tweek!" Craig sputtered, falling back against the doorframe once again. "Fuck! Stop, you don't know what you're doing!"

I kept my gaze fixed on him as my fingers wrapped around the base of the baseball bat. The voice inside my head scoffed at Craig bitterly.

_I don't know what I'm doing? My life is over because you couldn't stop yourself! _

Craig's eyes flickered from my face to my searching arm, and he lunged forward, knocking me back against the hard leather seats—causing me to drop my bat.

I shrieked, convinced Craig was going to bite me again. My body thrashed desperately underneath the zombie's grasp. Screams ripped from deep within my throat until it felt like sandpaper.

"Tweek!" Craig snapped. "Just fucking _stop!" _

* * *

_"Craig!" I found myself running to catch up with said boy through the bitter January weather. School had just let out, and the students of South Park High School rushed out of their temporary brick prison to relish in the short time of freedom before they were forced back._

_ I had seen Craig while tripping down the front steps, and rushed to get beside him. We've sort of set up a routine after school since we've started…well…our interesting relationship. He didn't wait for me today like he usually did, but I ignored that important fact; too blind by a crush's fog to even notice. _

_ "H-hey." I sputtered as I slowed to an awkward walk, playing with the end of my jacket. Craig seemed distant, and didn't even acknowledge my presence. Irritated, I grabbed at his hand selfishly. "So, what do you want to do today?" I asked. Craig glanced in my direction and I was happy to receive his attention. It quickly turned sour though. _

_ "Nothing." He spat, yanking his hand from my grasp. _

_ I frowned, a little confused. Craig hadn't rejected an invitation from me ever since he came looking for someone to screw around with. In fact, he was usually the one initiating them. So, you can't blame me for being a little bewildered. _

_ "Ngh—okay..." I answered, more than disappointed but trying to hide it from my features. "What about tomorrow?" _

_ "No." Craig stuffed his hands into his pockets and glared in my direction. His icy blue eyes were impenetrable, and the only emotion I could find within them was anger. _

_ "Did I do something wrong?" I snipped, unable to hide the small snarl that crawled into my words. But seriously, whatever Craig was going through, he didn't have to take it out on me. _

_ Suddenly Craig rounded on me, successfully stopping both of us in our tracks. A lone car passed on the icy street, and I momentarily regretted getting a little sassy with him. Maybe I actually did do something wrong? _

_ "Yes Tweek," Craig hissed, "you did do something wrong. In fact, you did everything wrong. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I backed up a step. I've never really seen Craig angry before, he was generally a chill kind of guy, but clearly something was eating at him…and apparently I was the cause of it. "You're a fucking slut, man." He snarled. _

_ Ow. Okay. Those words stung. In fact, I can still feel the sting of them today—like a slap in the face. Like…Like being thrown naked into an ice cold lake. My eyes began to water, and my brain was digging for information—anything that I might have done to upset Craig. He was my crush after all. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt, and I could feel him slipping away. It sucked, because I finally thought I was CLOSE. So close to cracking Craig's stone heart, and just a little farther until I'd have it. _

_Call me naïve. _

_ "What?" I sputtered, reaching out to grab onto Craig's jacket, but he slapped my hand away. I moved closer though, desperately. My lips searched for his. I was so close damn it! _

_ "Tweek!" Craig barked, shoving me back hard enough that I lost my clumsy footing, and crumpled on the frozen sidewalk. "Just fucking _stop!"

* * *

"Get off of me." I cried, my voice whimpering out in a sad croak. My life was over. I wouldn't be as lucky as Craig. My brain would rot and I'd soon be a pile of decaying mush walking around and moaning for something to eat.

And it was Craig's entire fault.

"Y-you killed me." Warm tears seeped out of my eyes and crawled down my face for what felt like the millionth time today. It's funny, how miserable Craig makes me.

Craig stared down at me apologetically, which really didn't help with my current situation. I wanted him off of me, but he seemed to have selective hearing and made no move to let me go. Craig's coal black eyes never left my face. For a moment, a flash of that hungry, distant look appeared and I panicked. However, it was gone in almost an instant and Craig slouched in a defeated manner.

Craig mumbled something, and I barely caught it, unable to interpret the quiet words.

"Ngh—what did you just say?" I hissed, my voice cracking in protest as it begged me to stop using it.

"I didn't break the skin." He said again, a little louder—just enough for me to hear.

"W-What?"

"I'm sorry, I lost control for a sec." I could feel Craig's hold slacken on me as he spoke. His words were rushed, and maybe a little desperate if I listened hard enough. "But I didn't break skin, I stopped myself. I swear. Don't freak out." He got off of me cautiously, as if I were some kind of rabid animal on the verge of an attack. And maybe I was.

I slowly and shakily sat up as well, trying to process the information Craig had just told me. I didn't believe him. I also wasn't willing to "forgive and forget" just because Craig managed pull himself away. _How heroic of him, _I thought sarcastically.

My hands itched for something to hold, and my anger still wasn't tamed. Without really thinking about it, my arm dipped between the seats and grasped onto the end of the baseball bat. Craig caught the movement, and his eyes widened in alarm.

"Tweek…" he lifted his hands up in mock surrender, but I didn't care. I quickly swung the bat, and it caught on the headrests of the front seats before finally reaching its destination: the side of Craig's face.

The zombie yelped in alarm and dizzily began scrambling away from me as fast as he could. Craig's pale, dead hands fumbled with the door handle, and he flung it open, falling out of the car—looking a little disoriented—as he tried to get away from me before I brought the bat back to hit him a second time.

I dropped the makeshift weapon, though, and lunged forward, slamming the car door shut and locking it. I shuffled quickly into the front seat, and clicked the button to lock the rest of the doors so Craig couldn't get back in. I immediately sought out the small indoor lights, and turned one of them on quickly. Looking at the rearview mirror, I pulled my lower lip down cautiously.

There were only a few faded teeth marks marring my soft skin. I checked thoroughly before relaxing and sitting back against the driver's seat in relief.

It didn't last long though; an angry knock on the window beside me jump-started my heart. I turned to see Craig banging on the window in frustration. There was an ugly black bruise forming on the side of his face, which made him look more terrifying than he already was.

"Let me back into the fucking car!" Craig growled, his voice muffled.

"No!" I snapped, receiving a rotted middle finger in return.

Our heated exchange happened for a few more minutes, in which Craig continued to bang on the window furiously and I'd reject any invitation to allow him back in. I was still angry. And maybe I should have been concerned that Craig would leave me…but for some reason, I knew he wouldn't. What I didn't know was whether that should concern me.

The car dipped forward as Craig climbed onto the hood, and I suddenly became terrified that he'd jump through the windshield and _attack _me! But instead, he simply climbed onto the roof and apparently stayed there. I could feel and hear him shuffling around until he stopped moving all together. I guessed that Craig was sleeping on the roof of Bebe's beat up Accord tonight; which was perfectly fine with me.

Carefully crawling into the backseat I settled down and closed my eyes. Falling asleep wasn't as hard as I predicted it would be. My body crashed quickly from exhaustion and everything faded away. My last thought was that Craig was lucky he happened to be my only way to Bebe, because otherwise, I would have killed him.

* * *

"We need to get gas again." Craig mumbled, eying the flashing gaslight that blinked desperately on the dashboard.

"B-but there are no stops around here!" I exclaimed worriedly as large trees blurred past us. We were on a winding mountain road—much like the one Bebe and I passed through a couple of days ago. It was barren, with nothing but withering trees and brown defeated grass.

I let Craig back into the car a few hours ago before the sun rose. He was convinced that zombies were coming and we needed to split. I was too tired to question him, and unlocked the car silently. The faster we got back on the road, the better. I wanted to know where the hell these kidnappers were—and more importantly—what happened to Bebe.

"I know there are no stops around here." Craig snapped irritably. We weren't on the best of terms right now. Not that we ever were. I was careful, though, not to instigate him. Craig seemed different. He was fidgeting in his seat, breathing heavily from his mouth rather than his nose, and would occasionally send me an odd looking glance.

He was hungry.

And for that reason, I decided to keep my bat in my lap for now.

I offered him a granola bar earlier, but Craig threw it back up and nearly crashed the car. So that was the end of that.

Usually I wouldn't pray for zombies…but under the circumstances, I wouldn't mind if one or two showed up.

"How long have we gone?" I asked nervously.

"With the gaslight on?"

"Yeah."

"About twenty miles." Craig said grimly. _Fuck, twenty miles?! _Bebe's car couldn't run much longer, it didn't take a genius to know that.

Craig exhaled through his nose harshly. "Shit." He muttered. "This is bad."

"I-I know! We're going to run out of fuel man!"

"Not just that." Craig hissed, causing me to pause from pulling at my hair and glance over at him warily. "I'm hungry. I'm really hungry." He murmured, so quiet I almost missed it.

I swallowed, and my hands left my hair and unconsciously tightened around my bat. What if Craig tried to bite me again? He could stop himself a few hours ago…but now?

"Distract me."

"What?!"

"I said, distract me." Craig growled. My mind rushed. _Why should I be doing you any favors? _Although, I'm sure it was in my best interest. My eyes glued to the crescent bite mark on his arm.

"How—erg—did you get that?" I asked, motioning to blackened scar. Craig glanced down; his dead eyes narrowing as a conflicted look passed through them. He seemed like he was about to answer, but it caught in his throat.

"I don't want to talk about that." Craig said, his hands clenching the wheel tightly. It might have been psychological, but I felt like the car was beginning to sputter. "Think of something else."

My thoughts raced, but before I could even try to interpret the mess inside my brain, the car lurched forward awkwardly. Craig cursed loudly and pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. We rode smoothly for a few seconds before the car sputtered again and eventually crawled to a stop in the middle of the road.

"No, damn it, come on." Craig begged, twisting the key in the ignition harshly only to receive a depressing cough from the car's ignition. I leaned forward in my seat, as if that would somehow propel the car forward a few feet—not that that would help us, we were in the middle of nowhere.

Eventually, the old Accord gave no reaction at all as Craig frantically turned the keys and pressed against the gas. He fell back against his seat in defeat, rubbing his blue tinted hands down his face.

I swallowed, keeping my grip firm on the faded wood of my baseball bat. Well fuck. Now I was stranded in the woods with no car, and no clues to where Bebe could have possibly been taken.

To add to that, the only things I had to depend on were a baseball bat…and a hungry zombie.

* * *

**Ah, sorry again, not much action in this chapter. But just you wait, a storm's coming. So, I'd love to hear your comments and anything you have to say! **

**Lovely thank you to bernaisbeast, Creek Grrl, HarvardDropout, AzyumiChan, Honeymusterd, ObanesHarvest, Kagome Miko207, and Sandy x Maxwell 4ever for reviewing! Seriously, I can't type my gratitude into these small author's notes but I really do appreciate them!**


	8. Chapter 8

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park. **

**-Warning: Violence-**

* * *

**Chapter Eight **

My feet begged for relief as I walked down the chilly winding road, which held cracked concrete and crumpled plant debris. Through my goggles, I could see that there seemed to be no relief ahead. Wherever the fuck this trail had leads us, it was definitely off the beaten path—although, I couldn't help but feel as if it looked familiar.

My baseball bat trailed behind me, the noise of it scraping against the road was the only sound…not even a bird chirped. I idly wondered where all of the animals had run off to before this whole nightmare began.

I glanced over at Craig warily. He'd been incredibly quiet recently. Before we were bantering and talking about useless things to keep his mind off of—oh, I don't know—_eating my flesh! _Our conversation died down a while ago, and I could tell he was having trouble controlling himself.

For one, his breathing was loud as fuck. He was inhaling deeply from his mouth in order to not to smell me, I assumed. Craig would also send quick and strange glances at me before looking away just as rapidly as if in shame. The look in his coal black eyes was feral and mysterious, a lot like the one he had when he bit me—or, well, tried to.

I still haven't forgotten about that or forgiven him, just so you know.

I was on edge, and hope was looking bleak as we continued down the road with no sign of any civilization. I'd never wanted a zombie to appear so badly in my life.

Flashes of the day—_the day—_that raving monsters attacked South Park suddenly flooded my brain. It was the less gruesome stuff. I was sure my mind was saving the real shock inducing images for later, but that's not to say that the illustrations that ran through my thoughts were anything short of terrifying.

I don't know what brought them on. Maybe it was the fact that I was wishing for the very things that brought forth my destruction. Or that I was so exhausted that I didn't bother using any of my energy to keep myself sane anymore. The flashes were brief and simple, nothing more than a few jumbled scenes that I couldn't make sense of until they were over.

_I was getting squished between hundreds of bodies, which were desperately pushing against the locked doors at the back of the school. The pack of kids I was in was massive—like a school of fish—and I was just as terrified of being suffocated and trampled as I was of being picked off by one of those _monsters_ that everyone was running from. I'd never had the chance to get a good glimpse of one yet…but the most horrifying thing was that I could hear students from the back of our giant bate ball being picked off and torn to shreds. _

The next one was from later that day (at least I think it was), the events that happened before it, though, were a mystery.

_Digging through Bebe's basement, I found a pair of ugly clear goggles. Like the ones the teacher forces you to wear during a Chemistry lab. I felt a sharp pain hit the back of my head and turned around quickly to see a clean and pristine baseball bat rolling on the floor next to me. Bebe had thrown it at me. The curly blonde was currently unzipping—what she said later—was her dad's old golfing bag. "Well, pick that up." She ordered me. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but I know you can probably get us out of it." _

A small smile almost crawled its way onto my lips. I wished Bebe were still here. She was one of the only people that didn't treat me like some sort of disease towards the end of my high school career. I never understood why. Everyone liked her. She was voted for homecoming queen every year. We shared a bunch of classes together, and it just so happened that we had a lot of things in common.

I had to find her. She'd do the same thing for me.

Craig had drifted farther and farther away from me the longer we walked. It was almost at the point where he was on the opposite side of the small street. My fingers flexed around the thin handle of my bat as it scraped along the ground behind me. For a moment, I was terrified that the friction between it and the concrete would cause a fire, and I quickly pulled it up over my shoulder in a desperate movement; glancing behind myself for a trail of flames.

This action didn't escape Craig's observation, and from looking at him I could tell he took it as an act of aggression.

"You know I have control of myself, right?" He growled from across the road, his nostrils flared angrily.

"I thought you did, until you tried to bite me earlier." I replied tartly, but as soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them instantly. I didn't mean to say that out loud! The last thing I wanted to do was make a zombie in an even shittier mood than before!

"What the fuck Tweek?" Craig seethed. "I didn't actually bite you. Let it go."

"Y-You almost did! And it was just a few hours ago!" I cried, clenching harshly at the base of my bat to keep myself from spewing angry insults toward Craig. Why couldn't we ever have a civil conversation?

"Well how would you feel if you were _starving _and there was a perfectly good meal in front of you?"

"You're comparing me to food!"

"Fuck." Craig grumbled, rubbing at his temple and squeezing his eyes shut. "That's not what I meant. Just…you'd probably cave too, alright? I apologized already." He said, as if that simple action was more than enough for emotionally scarring me last night. "We all make mistakes, it's only human." Craig added.

_But you're not human, _was what I wanted to say. Luckily, I censored my thoughts better this time. "I-I guess..." I mumbled instead, adjusting my goggles around my head.

We lapsed into silence again, and the only sounds were the wind rustling the dead trees and Craig's heavy breathing. My feet hurt like hell, and I wondered if Craig was feeling the same exhaustion. We couldn't afford to take a break though, Craig looked desperate and had resorted to chewing on the collar of t-shirt anxiously. He would have looked like an idiot, but I was already used to this image—especially since he'd been doing that ever since I can remember. Like, in eighth grade—when my silly crush on him began—I would stare at Craig from my seat across the room in Pre-algebra, and he'd be chewing on his shirt collar in concentration. I could hardly tell he was the same person anymore.

Craig suddenly spat out his shirt collar and looked ahead eagerly, a hopeful glint in his dead eyes. Instinctively, I looked forward too, and saw a small hump on the horizon line. Squinting my eyes, I could tell that it was an abandoned car.

"Is that the car that took Bebe?" I asked immediately, quickening my pace despite my legs' protests.

"No." Craig answered, but the glimmering look didn't leave his eyes. "But look, the driver's door was left open." He pointed out. I glanced back to the car and could distinguish some of its features now.

It was a silver Jeep resting oddly in the middle of the road. As we got closer, it was evident that the passenger door was left open as well. My eyes widened in excitement.

"W-We can probably drive it!" I exclaimed. "And maybe find you some zombies to eat!"

"Fuck yes." Craig groaned, throwing his head back as if dreaming of disgusting, oozing flesh as we spoke.

Craig traveled back closer to me as we approached the car. He seemed less on edge now that he had the potential to find a meal.

A hand knotted the fabric at the back of my jacket though, and jerked me to a halt. I nearly screeched loud enough to cause a landslide (even though I'm pretty sure that's not possible) until my fleeting gaze landed on Craig. It was his hand clenching the cloth of my jacket.

Craig's eyes were trained forward toward the car. His nostrils flared as he sucked in the air through his nose, smelling something undetectable by my senses. His lips pulled back to reveal his disgusting yellow teeth, and his stare ripped away from the car to look around us fervently.

"W-what is it?" I squeaked uncomfortably.

"Blood." Craig replied, releasing my jacket. "Stay here." He ordered, walking toward the vacant car slowly. I rolled my eyes at his command and crept forward along with him, holding my bat at the ready.

"Is there anyone in there?" I asked quietly, warily peering around Craig's frozen form, which was blocking the scene inside the car.

I gasped, nearly dropping my baseball bat at the gruesome sight. Blood was spattered across the cracked windshield and dribbling down the curved edges of the steering wheel. The dark crimson was caked into the leather seats, which were torn to shreds. The passenger door was stained with the familiar gloppy black blood of a zombie.

Craig sprung forward and into the car, crawling over destroyed seats to further inspect the mess of black blood that lay on the other side. I whined and glanced behind myself, suddenly feeling a lot less isolated than I previously thought, and scrambled around the front end of the car to meet Craig near the passenger seat. Even more of the black liquid ran down the crunched hood of the car and plopped onto the street.

"The blood's fresh." Craig said, touching the thick gooey substance and wiping it on his jeans.

"Crap man! Th-then let's get into the car and—ngh—find this thing!" I suggested, looking back into the dead trees that surrounded the thin road.

"Can't. The key's gone, and unless you know how to hotwire a car…we're screwed." He sighed in defeat, jaw setting angrily as he slumped onto the road and stared into the Jeep's bloody interior with a hungry expression.

I was silent for a while, unsure if the plan that was churning through my head had enough sanity to actually work. Because, honestly, I'm pretty selfish, and would much rather avoid putting my life on the line for Craig's sake. But at this point, I feel like leaving things as they were, was much more dangerous for myself. If we didn't find something for Craig to eat soon, I'd definitely be on his fucked up zombie menu.

"You said the blood's fresh?" I asked, setting down my bat over Craig's head and into the shredded car seat. I began undoing the buttons on my forest green jacket, and Craig turned around to look up at me curiously. He raised an eyebrow as I began undressing myself and stood up. Craig looked nervously at my actions, and his eyes stayed glued to the pale skin of my hands as I pulled my gloves off and stuffed them into my pockets.

"Yeah." He confirmed. "Tweek, what the fuck are you doing?" Craig growled, inhaling deeply from his mouth.

"Well, the zombie can't be too far if the blood is still fresh." I reasoned, shivering lightly before hesitantly taking off my jacket. I threw it into the passenger seat along with my bat. The hair on my arm sprung up instantly from the cool weather. "Maybe it will come back if it smells something else to eat." My heart was pumping harshly in my chest and my body trembled—begging me to stop exposing myself like this as I tugged off my plain brown t-shirt. I've never felt so vulnerable, especially with the strange way that Craig was looking at me.

"So you're using yourself as bait." Craig said in disbelief, taking an awkward step away from me as I rolled up my t-shirt and put it with my other things.

"Agh—u-uh yeah." I answered sheepishly. "Then you can eat whatever comes to eat me!"

"And you're taking off your clothes because…?"

"Ah! D-doesn't it help, like, to spread my scent or something!?"

"Yeah," Craig replied after a minute, "it does." His eyes lingered on my chest before ripping away in embarrassment after I glared at him.

"Alright." I squeaked shakily, taking a few baby steps toward the trees. "You better not let this zombie eat me!" I warned, feigning bravery.

"I won't let the zombie eat you." Craig scoffed from behind me. I could hear him getting comfortable in the car.

"I hope so." I muttered, sitting down at the edge of the road and beginning to wait.

* * *

"Fucking hell." Craig groaned. "This motherfucker isn't going to show up. And if we continue to sit here much longer, I'll eat you myself."

I rolled my eyes from where I sat slumped on the cold concrete. My ass had gone numb and I was shivering like a wet Chihuahua without my jacket on. But maybe Craig was right. There was no point in doing this if the zombie already left, which meant my plan was actually doing more harm than good. Not to mention, I probably looked like an idiot sitting on the edge of the road with only a pair of goggles accessorizing my upper half.

Standing up, I motioned to turn around when I suddenly heard the most cliché noise ring from somewhere in the trees.

A twig snapped.

Craig was by my side in an instant, shoving me behind himself eagerly and looking toward the shadowy trees hopefully. I stayed behind him, slowly backing up until I hit the cool metal of the Jeep.

I actually didn't feel too afraid. After all, my plan had worked! I brought Craig something to eat, and he was going to take care of it. I felt kind of proud of myself—at least…until I saw what emerged from the woods.

It was a zombie all right, which was good. But it wasn't the sort of zombie I was hoping for—with flesh melting off of its bones and a jaw unhinged and rotting off. No. This one was worse. Much worse.

It was like Craig.

_She _was like Craig.

She came waltzing out of the dead trees. Her pale skin was tinted blue much in the same fashion as Craig's, and her eyes were black as death itself. Her dark brown hair was knotted into a rat's nest that even put mine to shame. Her clothes were worn and torn much like Craig's when I first found him. Except for where Craig's clothes were ground with dried black blood, hers were ground with bright red crimson.

Her eyes slid from me to Craig and a knowing smile split across her rotten face. I stared on in confusion, because that honestly wasn't the sort of reaction I was anticipating.

However, Craig didn't wait for anything else to happen in this bizarre situation, and launched himself at the girl immediately. She hissed out as Craig threw her to the concrete, and kicked ferociously when Craig tried to bear down on her. Her barefoot nailed him in the stomach and Craig fell backwards with a grunt.

She was on him in a split second, snarling curses as Craig thrashed and threw her off, only to get knocked to the ground again from her returning form. She was a better fighter than Craig, and I grabbed my bat from the car instantly. Whoever this girl was, she would be nothing against the two of us.

I didn't have time to worry or wonder why the hell Craig and her seemed to be the same "kind" of zombie, because I could tell Craig was having trouble fighting her as he grunted and got punched harshly in the jaw.

"Relax buddy," She snickered breathlessly, dodging as Craig swung his arm at her, "we can share."

Craig ignored that comment and lunged toward her, grabbing her arm and sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her wrist. Gooey blood spurt out of the pale skin instantly and the girl screeched and ripped her arm away in alarm. I wanted to vomit as I hung back along the car, watching Craig slurp the limp skin into his mouth and hum in satisfaction.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" She cried, holding her damaged arm and dodging another one of Craig's blows. The girl peered over at me as if to make sure I was still there before snarling and deciding to make a mad dash at me herself.

With trembling hands, I held the bat up, preparing to swing and decapitate this bitch, when Craig suddenly hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her back in his direction.

Craig grabbed at her tangled hair and forced her head backwards, chomping down at where her neck connected to the rest of her body. Her scream echoed through the dead woods, and the brunette turned her own head to the side in retaliation—growling like a pissed lion as she mirrored Craig's actions by biting down harshly onto his own neck and ripping away a large chunk of flesh just below Craig's ear.

Cursing in surprise and pain, Craig immediately let go and attempted to push the girl away clumsily. Blood oozed from the wound on his neck, and got absorbed by the cotton of his t-shirt. She didn't move away though, and instead twisted around to shove Craig to the ground, crawling on top of him as he blinked up in shock. She spat his chunk of skin out of her mouth like it was poison.

"I see," she hissed harshly, her blood dripping all over Craig's front, "you're bringing him to _them _aren't you?"

My grip tightened around the worn wood of my bat, and I began creeping up behind the fallen pair of zombies.

"What did you tell him to get him to trust you?" She sneered, "They've got you working for them don't they? They made you what you are, and now you're going to bring him to—"

I swung my bat frontward with all my might and listened with sick satisfaction as the hard wood connected with the side of her rotting head. Craig's eyes widened as more blood spattered onto his face, and the brunette slumped off of him. She wasn't dead yet though. Not until her head was pounded into the ground.

Over and over again, I forced my bat back before slamming it into the side of her head. I could feel her skull begin to crack like glass as I relentlessly clobbered her. The girl's body had ceased moving long ago, and now only a twitch could find its way through her fingers with each brute smack I applied. It was as if I were hitting a piñata and waiting for piles of candy to explode from her skull.

Blood splattered onto my torso, as well as the lenses of my goggles. But, I continued until gray gooey brain matter littered the concrete, and her head was nothing more but a shattered shell.

I dropped my bat in exhaustion, and immediately turned my attention to Craig, kneeling over him in concern. He was laying in the same spot and position, wincing and prodding along the large wound that he'd just obtained. Beneath the sheets of black blood that fell from the gash I could see glistening rotten muscle.

Oh Jesus, I felt like I was going to say hello to my granola bars again.

"S-Stay here!" I shouted, scrambling up to my feet as I ran back to the Jeep. I pulled on my jacket and haphazardly buttoned it up, tugging on my gloves and grabbing my t-shirt before running back to Craig.

He was sitting up now and groaning. He looked torn between paying attention to me and digging into the mangled zombie next to him. I made the decision for Craig instead, kneeling down in front of him again and pressing my balled up t-shirt to his injury. Craig hissed and pulled away from me instantly, but I held fast, and kept the fabric to his neck.

"I need to stop the bleeding!" I scolded as he tried to push me away. Craig eventually stilled and leaned into the makeshift bandage thankfully. I watched with amazement as it absorbed the black blood quickly. I bit my lip in concentration, willing the blood to stop and clot already.

"Tweek," Craig said in amazement, shifting a bit, "are you fucking crying?" He asked, reaching forward and smudging the blood that spattered onto my goggle lenses away. I scrunched my face up uncomfortably and knocked his arm away with my free hand.

"Don't touch me." I mumbled, only now aware of the sting of tears in my eyes. Craig chuckled like an asshole.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, wincing as I repositioned the fabric against his neck.

"B-Because man. I need you." I muttered. Craig's eyes lit up, and I was expecting an egotistical response, so I quickly added, "You're helping me find Bebe." At that, a strange look clouded his eyes, and he glanced to the side awkwardly.

"Right." He mumbled, poking the corpse next to him.

Craig shooed my hand away from his cut and took the t-shirt himself. He held it closely to his neck as his other hand began peeling at the dead girl's skin beside him. I watched in disgust, but said nothing.

An awkward silence fell on us again, and Craig glanced at me self-consciously before he began nibbling at the brunette's rotten flesh. I looked away after a while, pretending the noises I was hearing were Craig chewing noisily on slices of moist ham and not human remains.

"She was like you." I said quietly, making Craig freeze. "Sh-she could talk and everything."

"Yeah." Craig muttered tensely, and I suddenly got the feeling that Craig knew a lot more than he was letting on.

"How did you turn?" I asked, hoping I'd get some kind of answer this time.

"I got bit." Craig answered simply, grunting as he tried to rip more skin from the zombie next to him.

"I know." I rolled my eyes in frustration. "I-I mean, how did you get bit?"

"Tweek," Craig growled irately, making me flinch, "if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to keep it to myself." And that was that.

The short conversation made me realize two things. One: that I shouldn't continue to blindly trust Craig Tucker as much as I was. And two; he was my only way of finding Bebe…and now I wasn't so sure if he was leading me in the right direction at all.

* * *

**Woohoo! Chapter complete! So, what do you think? Reviews are EXTREMELY appreciated. **

**Thanks to Creek Grrl, ObanesHarvest, Taylorgb, Hugo The Diabolical Penguin, Monthadog, Vember85, captainxx, deathbreadstick, ChaChaz, and Sansy x Maxwell 4ever for the wonderful comments! I love you guys so much for putting up with this story! Hahaha.**

**Anyway, I'm not sure if I'll have an update by Halloween...so if not, have a very happy Halloween! **


	9. Chapter 9

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 **

"C-Craig, this isn't a good idea…" I stuttered. My hands trembling as I tried to push his away from me. My nerves felt like they've finally fried, allowed to wreak havoc on my body and letting it completely control my movements. I could barely hold up my bat anymore I was shaking so bad. What we were doing was dangerous! There was a huge chance that if I didn't get eaten, I'd get infected. Certain death was imminent in my future no matter which rout I took. "Oh god I can't do this!"

"Tweek." Craig said sternly, his cold hands rested on my shoulders, trying desperately to still my quaking. Gloppy black blood dripped from his fingers and seeped into my clothes. His face, his disgusting rotten face, was so close to mine, begging me to understand. "It's the only chance we've got." At some point he released one of my shoulders and pressed a small knife into my trembling hands. "Just cut me, alright?" He was speaking as if I were a child. At the moment, I kind of felt like one. "And I swear I'll get us out of this."

I should probably rewind.

* * *

I sat in the torn, blood stained seat of the abandoned Jeep waiting for Craig to finish up his—erg—"meal". I rolled my bat around idly in my lap, watching the fresh black goo either drip off of it and onto my pants or dry into the worn wood. My goggles hung around my neck, stained and blackened with the day's previous events. I was so sick of blindly walking through the woods in hope of finding Bebe. I knew it had to be humans that kidnapped her, but the idea that she might not be harmed got farther and farther away in my mind the longer it took Craig and me to find her.

I also wasn't sure of the situation I'd gotten myself into. Glancing out the open door, I watched Craig quietly peel apart the molten skin of the zombie I'd just killed. She was like him. At first I believed that Craig was just different. Maybe there was something in his DNA or immune system that didn't let the infection take total control over his body. But now I wasn't so sure anymore. And if there were more of those things running around, then the world just became a whole lot shittier for a guy like me.

I didn't know how I felt about Craig either. It was strange. Craig knew basically everything about me after the zombies first showed up. I never bothered to keep anything a secret. But I felt like I knew _nothing_ about him. He'd reject any questions that got too personal—argh—and it just isn't fair! I deserved to know since I was a _human _traveling with a _zombie _that may or may not have made my life _hell _for absolutely no reason in the past!

Anyway, though, ranting about Craig won't help me with anything (I still haven't forgiven him for almost biting me).

"Tweek."

I flinched, my head popped up to see that Craig had made his way over next to the ruined car. For a minute I was terrified he heard my thoughts and was going to start yelling at me, but instead he simply handed over the t-shirt I'd given him to cover up the wound on his neck. Right now the tare looked fairly healed, and now was just a disgusting black scab resting on Craig's gray skin.

I glanced down at the soiled t-shirt in his grip. Craig was staring at it somewhat apologetically. Jesus, it was basically a new color—black.

"Keep it." I mumbled, shifting in my seat to face the desolate road ahead. I probably should have asked Craig if he was done, or offered to start walking again, but I was mourning over the loss of my shirt at the moment. I think Craig felt bad about it too, because he shoved my legs over and sat down heavily on the side of the car. He played awkwardly with the shirt in his hands before dispelling it on the ground.

"Do you think Bebe's okay?" I asked, tapping the hard wood of my baseball bat. "G-give me an honest answer." I added.

Craig was quiet for a long time before he sighed, leaning back against the sides of my legs. I was too lazy to shove him away.

"Alive? Maybe." He answered. "Okay? No."

"Why do you think that?" My gaze slid from the top of Craig's head to the half eaten corpse a few yards away. There weren't any flies to complete the scene of decay. I didn't know if that made things better or worse.

"Because, when people are put to tough decisions, they do things…they wouldn't normally do, I guess."

"How would you know?" I pursed my lips, returning my attention to the bat in my lap. "You're not a person."

I could almost feel Craig set his jaw from below me.

"I was." He growled, standing up and patting off his jeans as if he were just rolling around in the dirt.

"Yeah," I mumbled, hopping out of the car, "s-so what would you do if you were put up to a hard decision?" I asked. I was about to slam the door of the Jeep when something shiny caught my eye.

"I'd avoid it." Craig answered simply. I bit at the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to spit a venomous response.

Reaching down and grabbing the shiny object, I noticed that it was a small pocketknife left open. I closed the Jeep's door, tossing the knife in Craig's direction. He didn't even bother to try and catch it as it fell to the ground. Craig bent over, picking up the small sharp knife and examining it before looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What's this for?" He asked dully.

I dragged my baseball bat behind me as I started walking again, Craig quickly caught up to my side. "Ngh—in case you need it." I shrugged.

See, my logic was that I wouldn't let a zombie close enough to me to even need the knife. And honestly, it kind of freaked me out to keep one (like what if I fell on it or something and it stabbed me agh!). I had my baseball bat, which made me feel a lot safer.

"Why would I need this?" Craig wrinkled his nose. "Wouldn't it make more sense for you to have it?" He questioned.

"Ngh—you almost g-got your head ripped off by another zombie." I reminded him, much to his chagrin. "A-And now you can eat things easier." I added. Craig made a face at me, but stuffed the knife into the pocket of his jeans, regardless.

* * *

"It's getting dark." I murmured, rubbing my forearms fiercely as I shivered. "W-Where are we going to sleep?" I asked worriedly, looking over to Craig beside me.

I didn't know how long we'd been walking, but it seemed like forever. Luckily for us, it appeared that the small winding road we had been traveling on was getting bigger, and the dead trees beside it were becoming less dense and smaller. That meant we must be getting close to some kind of civilization (or what USED to be civilization), at least I hoped so.

However, right then, I was convinced we were screwed, and there was no way Craig could get me to sleep out in the open.

"Yeah, we should probably find somewhere to rest." He mumbled, gaze roaming the rotten landscape with coal black eyes.

"I think we should keep moving." I countered, squeezing the base of my bat harshly. "What if zombies find us?"

"We'll kill them." Craig responded simply. He stopped walking, coming to a halt in the middle of the road. I stopped next to him, growing too paranoid to stray too far from my extra weapon of defense.

"In the dark? We can't even see!"

"Neither can they." Craig shrugged.

"Erg, no, we have to keep walking!" I disagreed. My left eye twitched and I glanced down the road warily before my eyes moved unsteadily toward the trees. I'd come to hate trees during this whole experience. They hid too many things.

"Tweek," Craig said patiently, "I…won't be able to see the trail anyway, and there's no point in going further. We should just find somewhere to lay the fuck down." He growled.

"What if we go too far and c-can't find our way back?" I shot back.

"We're not going to go too far." Craig snapped. "Alright? Jesus. We're just going to find somewhere that looks somewhat safe and we'll take turns sleeping." He growled, already making his way to the darkened trees that hovered around the road. I followed him out of the fear of being alone and stranded.

"But Craig—" I protested desperately. I clutched my bat close to my chest, avoiding walking into thick rotten trunks.

"It's more dangerous to walk through the night than it is to just stay still." Craig explained. "So can you please just fucking listen for once?"

And so I did, too exhausted to argue with Craig further on the matter. The only sounds were the crunching of our footsteps on dead plant matter. _Well, at least if something's coming…we'll be able to hear it, _I thought dismally.

The dark crept up on us quickly without a moon or stars to penetrate it. Craig and I had no luck finding any sort of cabin, so we had to settle for a particularly thick tree and sit against that. I could barely see the outline of my hand as I held it in front of my face experimentally. Craig sat next to me, breathing deeply as if he were already asleep. I poked him with my bat to make sure he was awake, and he grunted irritably.

"You can sleep first." I informed him, even though I'd just jabbed his side. Craig hummed in affirmation and he shifted beside me. I could feel his arm against the fabric of my jacket.

"Just tell me when you get tired." He mumbled.

"Okay." I already knew that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. I could hardly sleep in an enclosed cabin, let alone out in the open. My brain wouldn't let me, and my body wouldn't let me either—even if I wanted to.

I could pinpoint exactly where Craig fell asleep because his breathing was so fucking heavy. Jesus, it was like he had sleep apnea or something. He wasn't even snoring! Like, if you're going to be that fucking loud you might as well be snoring! It sounded like Craig just finished running a marathon.

I could smell his disgusting breath the entire time. It smelt like…a disgusting combination of bananas and onions, even though he obviously hadn't eaten either.

I was too afraid to scoot away from him though, so I endured it.

Suddenly a heavy weight pressed down against my shoulder and I seized up immediately. Holding my breath, I let my heart slow down to a reasonable pace as I realized that Craig's head had just slumped down and he was now using my shoulder as a substitute pillow.

My first reaction was to slap him away almost immediately, but I hesitated.

I could feel the grimy cloth of his hat scratch against my neck when he shifted himself. Craig's arm was pressed firmly against mine as he leaned further into me. Instead of rejecting the close contact, it was almost as if my body reveled in it. My nerves tingled excitedly and a strained, yet content, breath passed through my lips. I didn't know that human contact was something I was craving. I felt like I'd just sipped from a nice cup of warm coffee.

And, though, the connection I was feeling wasn't really with a human, it still felt good. Maybe because the night was so dark, I didn't see Craig the way I usually did; which was half rotten with pitch black eyes (although, he did feel a little cold—and still smelt bad), but instead I felt a worn-out person—maybe subconsciously yearning for some sort of contact as well.

My pleasant thoughts crashed into a cold brick wall—because I heard the crunch of a dead leaf echo through the darkness. Everything inside me froze, and my eyes widened as if that would give me superior night vision. _Did I hear something? What was it? How far was it? What made it? _

Soon it happened again…and again…. and again. I couldn't figure out the location, it sounded like something was coming from all different directions. Holding the bat tightly in one hand, I shook Craig awake violently.

Craig jerked alert almost instantly, about to curse me out when I slapped a gloved hand over where I assumed his mouth was. I made sure he was registering the sounds around us before I slid my hand from his mouth.

Whatever was coming, there was a lot of it.

"W-What is that?" I hissed, pressing myself back against the rough bark of the tree. I glanced over to Craig quickly, where I could make out his figure's outline a bit easier than before.

"I-I don't know," he whispered in confusion, and I heard him inhale deeply, "it almost smells like—"

Suddenly, a growl—rabid and low—rumbled from the abyss. It was unlike any zombie growl I'd heard before. It was _too _animalistic. A zombie, no matter how decrepit and decaying could _not _make that sound…I was sure of it.

Then there was the smell, so vile and putrid that I considered the idea of never breathing again.

It smelt like wet dog.

"Dogs." Craig finished. His hand shot out and fisted the fabric of my jacket, pulling me up to stand up as he did.

"H-How many of them are there?" I cried, shaking against the hard bark of the tree. I could now barely make out the dark pillars of other trees around us, but the dogs were still invisible.

"I don't know," Craig said shakily, "but we need to get the fuck out of here." And before I knew it, a terrified and sprinting zombie was dragging me through the woods. I'd never seen Craig move so fast, and I wasn't slow behind him. His grip remained tight on my sleeve as he pulled me around trees and fallen branches. The crunching of our footsteps were matched with multiple others trailing not too far behind us.

Rabid barking and growling sounded behind us. I refused to look behind me, terrified of what I'd see. Craig, however, decided to, and ended up tripping over an uprooted tree root, bringing me down with him. I fell a few feet in front of him and scrambled to my feet quickly, clutching my baseball bat to my chest. I didn't have time to pull my goggles over my face when I saw Craig struggling to get up, a black shadow on all fours just behind him.

It slowed down to a walk, growling darkly as its shape became more defined. It was definitely a dog—erg, well, it used to be. I could make out the molten gray fur that shed off of its body as it stalked forward. Its skin was blistered and peeling, revealing yellow bone and black muscle. I held the bat out in front of me, ready to smack it before it mauled Craig as he stood up.

Then I realized that it wasn't going after Craig at all. It was going after me.

The beast passed Craig as though he were invisible. _Of course,_ I thought irritably, before the rabid monster lunged.

Craig grabbed it by its hind legs, crashing to the ground again as the dog brought him down. It yelped in surprise and snapped around in his grasp, just barely missing Craig's face as it tried to bite him.

More dogs could be heard in the distance.

Craig struggled to keep the monster down on the ground, screaming at me to hurry the fuck up and kill it as it thrashed in his arms.

I brought my bat up above my head and swung it down harshly, trying my best not to hit Craig. The hard wood of the bat came crashing down on the dog's flank, and it yelped out in pain and surprise.

I swung again, and this time the bat whacked the dog's side. Craig finally let go of it, since it didn't seem very interested in clawing his face anymore. Nope, now it wanted me again—but it was slowed down enough for me to finish it.

All the while the others drew closer.

As I beat the shit out of that poor creature, I actually found myself feeling kind of bad, which is strange considering I'd killed more dead people than I could count. It was just that…no one likes when the dog dies, you know? And even though this one was as far gone as it could get, I still felt pity as I brought down the final blow, crushing its skull.

Craig and I didn't have much time to mourn before we had to get going again. Craig grabbed my hand again and began pulling me in the opposite direction of the raving beasts. I could see blackened blood dripping off of his face that had belonged to the dog. It must have splattered onto him while I was hitting it.

I was suddenly hauled to the side in a sharp turn, getting dragged down behind a decrepit fallen tree. Craig and I were both panting heavily. The night was ending, and visibility was finally on my side.

"W-Why did we stop?" I panted desperately. There was no escaping those things…especially if they had my scent.

"There's only one way we're both going to get out of this." Craig said quickly. We paused as we heard a haunting howl ring out, and the sound of running continued. My body began to shake. I didn't want to die like this. Not like this.

Craig grabbed onto both of my hands, I dropped my bat and began to shiver dangerously. _These things are going to eat me. _

"They have to lose your scent." Craig said sternly, pausing to listen. His face looked torn, like he was extremely uncomfortable with what he was about to tell me to do.

And then I understood.

"Listen, stop fucking shaking." Craig grumbled, trying to play off the nervous tone of his voice. "It's my fault we're in this mess. We should have stayed by the road."

"C-Craig, this isn't a good idea…" I stuttered. My hands trembling as I tried to push his away from me. My nerves felt like they've finally fried, allowed to wreak havoc on my body and letting it completely control my movements. I could barely hold up my bat anymore I was shaking so bad. What we were doing was dangerous! There was a huge chance that if I didn't get eaten, I'd get infected. Certain death was imminent in my future no matter which rout I took. "Oh god I can't do this!"

"Tweek." Craig said sternly, his cold hands rested on my shoulders, trying desperately to still my quaking. Gloppy black blood dripped from his fingers and seeped into my clothes. His face, his disgusting rotten face, was so close to mine, begging me to understand. "It's the only chance we've got." At some point he released one of my shoulders and pressed a small knife into my trembling hands. "Just cut me, alright?" He was speaking as if I were a child. At the moment, I kind of felt like one. "And I swear I'll get us out of this."

I held the knife tightly, trying to get my hands under control.

"Make it nice and deep the first time, alright?" Craig spat, watching intently as I shakily pressed the small knife to the cold, bare skin of his arm. "We don't have a lot of time, damn it, and hurry up."

I closed my eyes tightly, and pressed harshly against Craig's thin skin. I heard him inhale sharply and curse. The dogs drew closer. Once I was sure the blade had slipped through Craig's skin, I dragged it down his arm, obliterating any veins that were in the knife's path. Craig muffled a painful scream.

I pulled the knife back and dropped it, only then opening my eyes. There was a thick black river flowing down Craig's arm. I wanted to vomit, but instead I just barely managed to pull my goggles over my eyes.

Craig got to work quickly. His pale arm was trembling as he began to spread the disgusting stuff all over me. I prayed silently that I had no cuts as he rubbed it into my face and even my hair. The dogs were so close now that even I could smell them.

Craig shoved me down on the ground, holding his damaged arm to his chest. I watched as his t-shirt soaked up massive amounts of blood. He grunted, and laid himself on top of me. I kept my mouth and eyes shut, afraid Craig would bleed into me. I still couldn't stop shaking, even from under Craig's weight.

If this didn't work, we were so screwed.

Scratch that, _I _was so screwed.

The crunching from the forest floor eventually slowed, and it sounded just a few feet away. They were walking now, and I could hear them sniffing at the ground, their noses buried under plant decay in desperation to regain my scent. At one point, I was positive that one of the beasts was just behind our makeshift-hiding place. I felt like I could feel its rotten breath seep under the dead tree.

I held my breath.

The animal growled, and I heard it begin to dig at the ground. _We're fucked we're fucker we're fucked. We're so fucked. _

Then suddenly, it barked. I flinched, and prepared for the worst. However, soon, the multiple footsteps began retreating until I could barely hear them. I let out a shaky sigh of relief and slowly opened my eyes. It was early in the morning, and despite the thick cloud cover that still blanketed the sky, I was glad to see daylight was approaching fast.

Craig and I stayed in our awkward position until we were sure the dogs wouldn't be back. He sat up and rolled off of me, examining his arm only to find out that the blood had already began to clot.

"Welll shit." Craig huffed, standing up.

I sat up slowly, almost ready to cry. _Great, now I have to add zombie dogs to the list._

* * *

"Ngh—I told you, I _told you!" _I cried, dragging my bat behind me as Craig and I walked aimlessly through the woods. I was exhausted and covered in dry zombie blood. So all in all, today really sucked so far. "We're never going to f-find the road ever again! The trail will disappear!"

"Tweek—"

"I'll never see Bebe again!"

"Tweek—"

"Ngh—I'm really dirty, and I'll be stuck with _you _for the r-rest of my life!"

"Tweek!" Craig snapped, shoving me harshly. "Would you _please _shut the fuck up?"

"Why should I?!" I countered. "We're totally lost man! We're never going to find the road again! What if the trail fades?"

"We'll find our way back." Craig muttered. "Just calm your tits."

"No!" I argued. "I-I'm not gonna 'calm my tits', okay?! What if we're stuck in the woods until nightfall? What if more undead fucking animals come to eat me? It's easy for _you _to stay calm when the entire world _isn't trying to have you as a snack!" _I screeched, my shrill voice bounced off of the trees and through the hills.

"Oh my God, Tweek," Craig groaned dramatically, "I've been trying to get you back to South Park in one piece this _entire time_. I've saved your life on more occasions than you can count, put _my _life on the line for you, and you've done nothing but scream at me. So if you don't mind, I would just like you to shut. The fuck. Up." Craig took a deep breath but suddenly froze. His eyes widened slightly and he glanced over at my blackened face. I already knew what he was hoping I didn't catch.

_South Park. _

"What do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and taking a step away from him. "'Taking me back to South Park'. Wh-why are you taking me there?" I paused. "How do you know that's where B-Bebe is?"

Craig looked like he wanted to punch himself. And I would have let him if he tried. What used to be small suspicion of Craig sky rocketed, and I wouldn't take another step with the zombie until I got the truth.

"Tweek, don't—"

"No." I argued. "Craig, you have t-to tell me. It's not fair." I kept my voice as level and calm as I could, which I think scared Craig a little bit in contrast to screaming at him.

Craig sighed, he picked at the long jagged scab that now ran down his arm. "I know who took Bebe." He said quietly. My gut boiled.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, I know what they're going to do, and I didn't want to freak you out." He confessed. "You tend to over react." I ignored the last part as best I could. My hands felt like they were going to quake again. I picked my next question carefully.

"H-How do you know who took her?" I swallowed.

"Because," Craig replied, "they're the same people who took me."

* * *

** Wow, I'm SO sorry for the late update. I had an AWFUL case of writer's block but worked through it. Anyway, consider this a Thanksgiving present? Comments, questions, review (pleeaseee lol)?**

** Thank you so much to Creek Grrl, Darker Than Black12, Monthadog, Sand x Maxwell 4ever, Classy Coffee, La Ann, wildcannabis, Goregeous, and Sheevera for the lovely reviews. I'm so happy you guys like the story so far!**

** Happy Thanksgiving!**


	10. Chapter 10

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

My brain felt like it was a few seconds away from melting. I think I was suffering from an overload of information, or trauma, or _something. _It's like everything I'd encountered the last few days had finally caught up to me, and I'd never bothered to ask questions about them before. Like, the weird strain of virus that Craig seemed to have, the fact that we ran into another zombie identical to his condition, the idea that there are now _undead mutilated dogs _begging to get a taste of my _liver! _And now Craig confessed that he _knew _who took Bebe. Jesus, I wanted to scream, I wanted cry, I wanted to bury my head in the ground and never see the light of day again. But I didn't do any of those things. Instead, I simply stopped walking and leaned against a thick rotting tree.

I ignored Craig's questioning glance in favor of staring forward. I ran a hand through my crusty hair, reminded of the fact that I was currently covered with flaking black goo. A shaky breath escaped my lungs and I closed my eyes, slowly sliding down the rough tree bark and sitting on the damp forest floor. Craig awkwardly stood above me, his face torn between asking me if I was okay or just staying silent.

I ended the dilemma for him.

"Who are these people," I murmured, "that took you, and now Bebe?"

Craig was quiet, before he carefully sat down in front of me, picking at the long jagged scab that ran down his arm. I rubbed black flakes off of my baseball bat as I waited for him to answer. Honestly, I wasn't completely sure if I even wanted to know what he was about to tell me.

"I don't know their names specifically." Craig finally spoke. "There were a bunch of them, maybe there's even more now." He shrugged.

"So who are they?" I asked impatiently. "Why t-the hell would they take you and Bebe?"

"Just listen. If you didn't already guessed, I haven't really been telling you the truth. But I'm going to now. So _please, _Tweek, don't fucking interrupt me every other sentence."

I bit the inside of my cheek, nodding for Craig to continue instead of spitting back a retort.

" I left South Park shortly after it went down, like you and Bebe did. I drove out through a rush of mad people." A bitter look contorted his features. "I didn't bother finding my family. I assumed they got out of there—but if they didn't—that's not the last thing I wanted to remember them as, you know?" I nodded.

"W-Wait," I interrupted, "so, that wasn't your cousin's house? You made all that up?"

"I'm getting there." Craig growled. "Now shut up.

"Like I was saying, I got out of South Park, but I screwed myself over. I had no food, water, or even a weapon to fight off the monsters running around. I drove for hours before stopping at an abandoned house off the freeway. The place was left open.

"The kitchen had barely any shit in it. But I managed to collect a few bags of chips for later. I was thinking that I could make it through whatever the hell was going on. I planned on barricading myself in that house, and to simply wait for the chaos to blow over." Craig scoffed, rubbing a pale hand over his face. "It worked for a few days, until the water got shut off. Then after that it seemed like all hell broke loose.

"Zombies swarmed the place, and the only thing my sorry ass had to protect myself was a lamp stand. I thought I was done for.

"But then I heard voices. Like, _actual _voices. And shots. Before I knew it, the zombies around me were being mowed down and dropping like flies. I remember feeling like I was about to shit my organs out." I made a face at Craig's last remark but he kept going. "These two guys were the only ones left standing…" Craig squinted his eyes, like he had trouble remembering what happened next. "And the next thing I knew they were coming toward me. I think one of them injected me with some sort of drug or some shit, because the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital room."

"Were you a zombie?" I squeaked.

Craig shook his head no.

"I was still—uh—human. I got up to leave the room, but it was locked. I banged on the door for what felt like hours before some dude dressed in all white finally opened it. I was pissed and asked him what was going on. He told me that I was in a safe place, Hells Pass, actually." My eyes widened. "He said that they made a vaccine—for the virus I guess—and it was my lucky day.

"And it's not like I was about to question the guy. I was just glad everything was over, so I followed him. I could hear people banging from inside their rooms, and maybe that's where I should have run off, but I didn't. " Craig mumbled, looking almost ashamed. "The guy took me to the psych ward. There were bunches of other people walking around in white too. It was the most people I'd seen in days.

"I was put into a room with nothing but a bed and a woman, who was standing there with a syringe. I remember that she looked so happy, and told me that the solution was in her hands or something like that. So anyway, she stuck the shit in my arm and it hurt like hell. I felt like liquid lava was being injected into my veins. "

"Then did you become a zombie?" I asked.

"No." Craig rolled his eyes. "Despite how fucked up the situation was, I still didn't question anything. Until they led me to a small room with nothing in it. There were windows, where I could see some more people in their white lab coats. I think they shoved me into an observation room or some shit." Craig's face turned to anger so suddenly that I flinched back against the tree slightly.

"I didn't know what was happening. I tried talking with whoever was on the other side of the glass, but they ignored me. Then, the next thing I knew, a chained up, rotting zombie was shoved into the same room that I was in." Craig paused, flexing his blue fingers. "It bit me, obviously, in the arm. The doctors shot it before it could finish me off.

"Clearly the vaccine didn't work. Not all the way, anyway. I began turning fast." Craig hesitated with his next words, like he wasn't sure on what to say next. "And, uh, luckily I escaped—then you found me."

I could tell there were details Craig was purposefully leaving out, but I decided not to ask him about it. My brain was still stirring with the new information he had given me.

"S-So you're telling me," I began shakily, clenching my bat, "that there are people…taking other people, and basically experimenting on them?" I peeled off my blood-crusted glove and rubbed at my eyes, tears springing from them immediately. We were screwed. It was probably too late for Bebe, unless she got away. I was such a bad friend. I couldn't even rescue her.

"Hey," Craig mumbled awkwardly, nudging my arm, "don't start crying damn it."

"She's probably dead man." I sniffled, looking up at Craig through bleary eyes. "T-there's no point in getting her now."

Craig furrowed his brow, rubbing at the back of his neck. "She could be alive." He didn't sound so sure. "Besides, once we find the road again, it's basically a straight shot to South Park. I didn't just drag your sobbing ass all this way for nothing." Craig grumbled, standing up and brushing off his jeans. He offered me a rotten hand, and I pulled my glove back on before taking it. I grunted as Craig hoisted me up, holding my baseball bat in my other hand. We stood there awkwardly for a moment, Craig's hand still holding mine, before I ripped it away.

"Ngh—why didn't you tell me any of this from the beginning?" I couldn't help but ask. I was pissed—don't get me wrong, but at the same time, I felt too exhausted to _do _anything about it. Plus, I couldn't just ignore the fact that Craig had saved my ass a countless amount of times since this whole ordeal began. I mean, I was covered in the guy's blood for God's sake!

Craig bit his lip and began to walk again. I followed him for the purpose of finding the road before more mutant creatures would attack me. "I already told you," he sighed, "I didn't want you flipping your shit."

"You never seemed to care if I 'flipped my shit' before." I spat back. Craig frowned at that but stayed quiet. We walked in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before I asked, "Can't you just find the scent trail and lead us back to the road?"

"Well—uh—" Craig glanced at the dead forest floor, "…I kind of lied about that too. Zombies can't see scent trails. I just made that up so you'd follow me." He said sheepishly. "It was pretty stupid, actually. I'm surprised you believed it."

I was tempted to smack his head off, but that would take too much energy.

"Jesus, tell me Craig," I seethed, "is there anything you've told me that _is _the truth?"

"I just told you the truth." Craig growled back defensively.

I didn't argue, instead I gruffly inquired, "Once we get back on the road, how m-much farther is South Park?"

"Why are you asking me, I'll probably just _lie _about it."

This time I actually hit Craig in the side with my bat. He yelped before stumbling forward.

"Ow, Tweek, what the fuck?"  
"I'm sorry man!" I cried innocently. "My arm just had a—ngh—spasm!"

"You know, I don't have to be so nice to you." Craig retaliated.

I simply pursed my lips and held the bat to my chest. "You call this being nice?"

"Yeah. I could have eaten you. You don't even smell shitty, at least not compared to the crap I eat." Craig pointed out.

"So you're saying, that you're being nice by letting me live?" I clarified.

"Yep."

"Well," I narrowed my eyes, "how do you know _I'm _not being nice by letting _you _live?" I shot back, pointing my baseball bat in his direction like a large wooden finger.

"You couldn't kill me." Craig scoffed, seeming to find the idea hilarious.

"Sure I could! I've killed hundreds of zombies!" That may have been over exaggerated.

"Hundreds?" Craig raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Yes." I held my baseball bat up proudly. "Hundreds."

We fell quiet again. Craig didn't look as if he believed me, not that I expected him to.

"Hey." I suddenly said, catching the zombie's attention. "W-What went through your head when you were put into that room with a zombie?"

"Nothing besides a string of curses." Craig replied cheekily, but when I didn't laugh he sighed. "That I'd been duped," he answered honestly, "and that I was screwed. You know how when you're shoved into situations like that, you begin thinking about what you could have done differently to avoid it? That's what I was thinking mostly. I shouldn't have just followed them around like a stupid sheep. I shouldn't have let them shoot shit up my arm. Then my thoughts went further back than that. Like, I thought about how I should have left the house instead of holing myself in it. Or, I should have gone back to get my family." Craig paused; he picked at the scab on his arm again. "I should have done a lot of things." And when Craig looked at me, for some reason, it felt like he was talking about things that have happened long before the zombies popped out of the ground.

I looked away, unable to hold eye contact. "I thought that too." I admitted shakily. I could see Craig peer at me curiously from the corner of my eye.

"When?"

I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, so I continued to stare at the ground, hoping that Craig wouldn't notice (he probably did though). "Um—when you—uh—ki-bit me." I squeaked. I didn't dare look at Craig, but I remembered an odd thought that flashed through my mind: if a zombie were to blush from embarrassment, would they blush black?

"Oh." Craig replied shortly.

"Well, like," I sputtered, trying to dispel the awkward, "it was only natural! I-I thought about how I should h-have killed you, or stayed with Bebe—or-or never stopped off at the town! You can't blame me, you're the one that bit me."

"I didn't _bite _you." Craig mumbled gruffly.

My head snapped up then, and I was surprised to see Craig in the posture that I was just in, with his coal black eyes fixed on the ground.

"Then what did you do?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. We walked several steps in silence before Craig finally answered.

"I kissed you."

* * *

**Wow, who deserves worst author of the year? I DO! This update isn't even that LONG for me to use the excuse that it took me forever to write. I'm so sorry I haven't been updating, and that this chapter may have been a disappointment, but I promise very soon the chapters will be more action packed…and creeky! **

****Thank you Darker Than Black12, Vember 85, Creek Grrl, ttaf1991, Goregeous, Monthadog, . , xoxjesiixox, OsinR, Sandy x Maxwell 4ever, tar mouth, reyrocks, Anon, and TheDeepestEmeraldGreen for your lovely reviews! **


	11. Chapter 11

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 **

"I kissed you."

I don't know why Craig's answer surprised me. I mean…I kind of already knew that. What else would you call pressing your lips against someone else's? I guess what I wasn't expecting was the confession.

"Well why the hell would you do that?" I blurted out, maybe a little more venomous than I intended. I couldn't really help it though, Craig made it pretty clear in the past that he wanted nothing to do with me…in that sense.

"I don't fucking know." Craig mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as we trudged through the thick, dead trees. We were headed up a steep slope, and I was hoping that the road might be at the top of it. "I just got carried away, it was impulsive."

"Why are you telling me this?" I couldn't help but wonder. The last thing either of us wanted to bring up was our awkward relationship from before. If you could even call it that. We liked to bury it down like some sort of dirty secret and never dig it up again.

I'd like to say it was like water under the bridge, but it really wasn't.

"Because, I didn't bite you, at least, I didn't mean too." Craig shrugged, he was still facing forward as we climbed the steep slope. I could feel exhaustion start to reach me, but the idea of staying another night in this god-forsaken forest wouldn't let me slow down.

"What made—ngh—you think, that you had the right to _kiss _me?" I retorted, dragging my worn bat behind me.

"I already told you that I don't know." Craig responded, rolling his eyes. "It's not a big deal."

I refrained from spitting in Craig's face; after all, he had just dumped his nasty zombie blood all over me a few hours ago in order to save my life.

By the way, I was very eager to get that shit off.

So I opted for staying silent, pursing my lips and trudging along the dead forest floor in the cloudy daylight. My legs shook as we finally reached the top of the hill, and too my delight, a thin road sliced through the trees and stretched far down the landscape in either direction. I wanted to kiss it as I stepped onto it.

Craig looked from left to right, his black eyes narrowing as he tried to judge which direction we should go. Eventually, he turned right, and I simply followed him—too lost to know whether or not this was the correct direction.

And so we walked, burying the previous conversation deep in our dirt piles just like every other one we had.

* * *

It seemed to be about an hour until the road broke off into a small exit. Craig and I were eager to see where it led, hoping we'd find somewhere to rest. I was also praying that I'd find something to eat and maybe even be able to wash myself off. My feet moved with a new sort of swiftness that only happened with the promise of hospitality.

And in this world, hospitality can be defined as a crumbling house with rotten food in it.

The exit turned off onto another thin strip of road, but I could see clumps of what looked like huddled shacks in the distance. I held the baseball bat close to my chest in anticipation. Promises of food and shelter stuck to my thoughts. My body was trembling and aching with exhaustion from not sleeping for the past two days.

Garbage littered the cracked concrete. Old food wrappers and papers blew past us in the dull breeze. I kept my gaze trained ahead, my goggles bounced around my dirty neck with my quickening pace. The closer Craig and I got to our temporary destination, the more detail we could make out. What I first assumed were shacks, turned out to be a collection of run down trailers—a trailer park. I could tell that it stretched on for a few acres. The entire place looked abandoned save for the garbage I spotted on the dead grass. However, I simply couldn't assume it was safe. Craig and I would have to search between the small spaces separating each trailer just to be sure.

I assumed the trailers used to be white, but now they were a grayish yellow, covered in dirt and mud. A few had boarded windows; others had no windows at all. I looked over to Craig as we approached the first row. His expression seemed strange and it looked almost confused.

"What is it?" I asked, halting before taking another step further. I set my bat down against my legs, pulling my smudged goggles over my eyes. "Zombies?"

"No." Craig glanced over at me, he looked almost afraid. "People."

The only sound was the trash fluttering through the wind.

I understood Craig's wariness. Hell, even I was nervous of the idea. I hadn't fucking seen an actual person in _days. _And honestly, I didn't know what someone would do to me—even if they saw me alone. People were crazy in times of need, man. I'd seen movies…I knew what people would do to others in order to get what they needed. However, the fear was much more real to Craig. He was a zombie after all. Even though he may not have been as rotted at the rest of them, it was fairly obvious to tell what he was.

All it would take was a person with a gun to blow his head off. Then, bam, it would be over. He'd be dead (like _dead_ dead), I'd be alone, _and _my chances of finding Bebe would be down to zero.

…Maybe I'd be a little sad too.

Or a lot if I think about it.

"P-People?" I whispered, my voice faltering. "Do you think they're the ones that took—"

"No." Craig shook his head, taking a tentative step forward between two run down trailers. His feet crunched in the brown grass. I shuffled after him, holding my bat to my chest again and looking over his shoulder curiously. The zombie snorted, glaring at me and pushing me away before raising his head, inhaling deeply through his nose.

It always looked strange when Craig would try to catch scents from the air. It was disturbing each time I witnessed it, because it was a reminder of what he was. But this particular time scared me the most and sent shivers down my spine.

Why? Because as Craig was breathing in the odor of the living, his lips were curved ever so slightly upward, his coal black eyes disturbingly wide, and his fingers curled in delight.

The people…smelled good.

Craig turned back to look at me, and I glanced away awkwardly in order to pretend that I didn't just witness what I did.

"They're close." Craig said. "But I don't think they're here anymore. They probably just stopped to rest like we're about to do."

I relaxed my tense posture.

"We should split up and make sure the area's clear." I said, swinging my bat over my shoulder with new confidence. "Then w-we can focus on supplies and somewhere to stay." I was also hoping that I could find some new clothes and maybe, _maybe, _rinse off.

Craig looked at me skeptically before agreeing. "If you need me, just yell."

I narrowed my eyes, muttering indignantly to myself that I "don't need some dead kid to protect me".

The first trailer I inspected had an unlocked door, which made it convenient for entering, but also dangerous. It swung open, giving me a partial view of the narrow space. I held my baseball bat far in front of myself, edging into the trailer slowly. Kicking the door shut, I quickly pressed my back up against it. I glanced left and then right, relaxing once I was sure that I was alone.

I pulled my goggles up and onto my forehead to get a better look around.

The place was a mess and looked like it was left in a hurry. The dirty white sheets were strewn from the queen-sized bed to my right and ended at my feet. The tiny bathroom door was open and I could see toilet paper bunched up on the floor and flooding into the hall.

To my left, the cabinets that made up the narrow kitchen were left open. Food rappers littered the wooden floors and small counters. I leaned my bat against the door, praying that some food was left over.

I scrambled through the open shelves and cabinets, my dirty gloves found little purchase. I even opened the fridge, immediately regretting the decision as a putrid stench slammed into my nose. "Oh my god." I bent double and dry heaved, slamming the refrigerator closed and trying to forget the unrecognizable green sludge that had been sitting on the shelf.

Something on the floor caught my eye, and I crouched onto my knees to pick it up.

It was a simple picture frame. The glass between the dust coated wooden frames was shattered, but I could still make out the photo just fine. An old plump woman stood with her equally old and plump husband in front of a picnic table. They looked like they were in some sort of park, and the sun was shining almost directly onto their faces, causing their old wrinkly eyes to squint toward the camera. It only made their smiles look bigger. The husband's pudgy arms were wrapped around the woman's round frame, and he held her so tight that I could feel their bond through the broken glass.

I found myself touching the damaged glass with trembling fingers. My lips were tugged up at the corners into a smile—the happiness from the photo infectious.

But then I began to wonder, _where are they now? _

Were they wandering around the countryside, moaning for brains and dripping black blood? Were they in some sort of safe house that I had yet to find? Were they badass zombie slayers, curing the world of zombies one smashed head at a time? Were they even still together in this time of chaos? Or, were they simply dead—maybe a passionate suicide signaling their departure.

And then I began to think of how many other people were like this: nothing more but photographs. They were nameless; the only proof that they had ever existed lay in my hands. Is that going to be me someday? Is my entire existence going to be wrapped up in an old photo? What am I, if everyone who knew me is already dead?

_Oh no, _I felt moister prickle at the corner of my eyes, and soon small droplets of water were falling onto the picture frame. I knew crying was seen as weak, but at that moment…honestly…I didn't care.

* * *

The search went on for a few more hours. Unfortunately for me, I didn't find anything to rinse myself off, but I did manage to put on some fresh clothes (a warm green plaid jacket and jeans) and even find something to eat (potato chips). Craig was too lazy to change his clothes, but he did find a meal (a dead cat, that tasted like "a shit took a shit").

It was beginning to get dark, so we decided to stay in one of the cleaner trailers that still had all of its windows and a nice lock on the door. I checked that it was secure multiple times before turning toward the bed, ready to flop down and never wake up again.

To my dismay, though, Craig was already laying on one side.

"I thought you were sleeping on the floor." I said, placing my baseball bat down in the small space between the mattress and the wall. Craig scoffed, sitting up and displeasuring me more by taking his hat and nasty t-shirt off.

I couldn't stop myself from staring—not that he was _attractive _or anything, it was just that his pale bluish skin was covered in deep jagged scars. They were everywhere. It looked like a toddler scribbled all over his body. I could see teeth marks in some areas, but the rest of the scars looked like long mangled fingernails clawed them there.  
Craig made himself comfortable, fluffing a pillow and lying down on his back.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor." He informed me. "Believe it or not, I like to feel comfortable, and since the last two nights I've been sleeping on the roof of a car and against a tree…sleeping in a bed will feel damn fine."

"Well _I'm _definitely not sleeping on the floor." I growled. Like hell I was. Sleeping on a bed would feel like a cloud, and I wasn't about to give that up.

"I'm not about to move." Craig said lazily. "So either you sleep on the other side, or you get the floor."

"What if you start chewing on me in my sleep?!"

"I already ate."

"No you didn't! Y-You barely ate anything from that cat!" I accused. Which was true, Craig just picked at it.

"That's because it was disgusting. I'm not meant to eat crap like that."

"So then you _are _hungry."

"I'm not hungry enough to eat your ass." Craig rolled your eyes. "If you're that afraid of me, you should just sleep somewhere else."

I huffed indignantly, pulling my goggles off and throwing them childishly next to my bat. I plopped down onto the mattress, causing Craig to lurch over toward my side of the bed. "I'm not afraid of you." I mumbled. I wouldn't be taking any of my clothes off though.

I slid beneath the sheets—slightly disgusted that someone else had slept here—but too overwhelmed with comfort to care. I turned onto my side, facing away from Craig. My body immediately relaxed into the soft setting, but despite my exhaustion, I found it difficult to close my eyes and drift to sleep.

I growled after several minutes and flopped onto my back angrily, staring up at the low ceiling. I was surprised to see that Craig was in a similar position, picking at the scar on his arm. I turned my head to the side and watched him curiously.

"Hey Craig?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah?" Craig didn't look at me as he continued to poke at his skin.

"If you're dead," I saw him frown, "then why do you have to sleep?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "If I'm dead, then why do I have to eat?"

We were both silent, the questions were too complicated for our tired brains to figure out.

"Maybe you're half-dead." I yawned drowsily. I looked back up toward the dark ceiling, and could feel Craig shifting onto his side next to me.

Suddenly, I felt Craig's cold hand on my chest. I seized up immediately, my whole body going stiff and ready to push it away…until I felt what it was doing.

Craig's hand was moving slowly across my upper chest, as if it were searching for something—like a metal detector does through the sand. I knew almost instantly what he was searching for, and maybe that's why I didn't shove him away. His hand eventually stopped right above my heart. I could feel its cold temperature through my shirt. My heart was beating fast and strong, so much so that I was slightly embarrassed. I didn't turn my head to the side because I felt too awkward. But I knew Craig was close, I could feel his putrid breath on my ear.

"It's funny," Craig murmured, his hand remaining flat against me, "how something so simple can be so rare now-a-days, you know?"

I swallowed awkwardly. "N-Not really." I admitted; risking turning my head to the side and feeling surprised when I noticed that his eyes were closed.

"It's so disgustingly cliché for a dead kid to feel someone's heartbeat and say he wants one too." He smirked, his eyes still oddly closed. I wondered if Craig refused to open them because he was embarrassed. "But, it's true."

I inhaled shakily. "You d-don't have a heartbeat?" I whispered, even though it was fairly obvious. Craig opened his eyes then, but they weren't looking at my face, they were glued to his hand over my heart.

"No."

I then surprised him and myself by shifting onto my side, Craig's hand drew back in confusion. I peeled off my gloves, tossing them carelessly behind myself. Reaching forward, I pressed my palm flat against his frigid skin, right over where his heart should be.

I cannot explain how strange it feels to receive no pulse in return from a person that can move, breath, and talk just like you.

We both were quiet. My fingers twitched over his scarred chest, like at any moment his heart may start thumping once again.

Nothing.

I felt my eyelids growing heavy as I relaxed into the mattress. My hand had yet to move from Craig's cold chest, but neither of us did anything about it.

"That makes no sense." I murmured, my eyelids sliding shut.

"Nothing makes sense anymore, man."

And I was pulled into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

**Oh ho ho ho things are about to get messy. So, what do you think, comments, reviews (please lmao)?**

****Thank you Creek Grrl, Monthadog, reyrocks, Guest, Britnotmobile, The Scribz, Amberpaw1999, AnotherJack, Sandy x Maxwell 4ever, and Anon for your lovely reviews! I love them so much and can't thank you enough!**


	12. Chapter 12

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

The first thing I became vaguely aware of was how cold it seemed. I shifted uncomfortably and felt the sheets move over me. It felt as though my back were jammed up against a refrigerator. Not only that, but it also seemed like there was some kind of cold pipe wrapped around my torso.

I shifted again, mumbling drowsily to see if I could shake off whatever strange freezing object had attached to me.

I became even more uncomfortable when I felt something wet and slimy drag itself slowly up the side of my neck. It rolled back and forth lazily, like some kind of slug had decided to coat my neck in putrid smelling goo.

Wait…_slug? _

My eyes shot open and I flung myself to the other side of the lumpy mattress. I sat up rigidly, my spine like a meddle rod. The first thing I did was slap a hand to my neck where the alleged "slug" had been traveling. Disgusting spit and drool squished through my fingers, but I felt no teeth marks or open wounds.

Letting out a shuttering breath, I allowed myself to relax a little. I glared hotly at the stupid figure sleeping next to me—his pale arm stretched out in my direction. The asshole had been licking me in his sleep!

I growled angrily, picking up the flat yellow pillow I'd been using and smacking Craig with it harshly. The zombie did nothing but grunt and turn over.

I spent a few more seconds glaring angrily in his direction before shuffling off the bed, feeling my neck one more time to be sure that I wasn't bitten. My new clothes were wrinkly but clean so I didn't bother changing out of them. _We need to get back on the road. _I turned back to the grimy mattress to wake up Craig.

He was lying on his stomach under the sheets, face turned to the side and mouth lolled lazily open. Craig looked kind of scary, actually…because if it weren't for the slight movement of his chest, he would look like a kid who had just died in his sleep—left in his bed to rot away.

My thoughts flew back to last night, where in a drowsy delirium I had allowed him to touch my chest and feel my heartbeat. I remember searching for his as well, and being shocked as not a single pulse touched my fingertips. I'd fallen asleep that way.

My face reddened and I shook my head, stumbling over to the side of the bed and pulling my goggles around my neck as well as tugging on my discarded gloves. _Why is my face so red? _I grumbled angrily to myself. _You've got nothing to be blushing about! _

I cleared my throat before leaning over, gently nudging Craig's scar bitten shoulder. He groaned irritably but made no move to get up.

"Craig," I hissed, shaking the mattress, "wake up we've gotta g-go."

Again nothing.

I puffed out my cheeks, skirting around the lumpy cot so that I was standing above Craig, looking down at his slumbering face. His mouth was hanging open and drool dribbled down from his unhinged jaw into the fabric of the pillow.

_That poor pillow. _

I wrinkled my nose, able to smell his reeking breath from where I stood. Jesus God it stunk. I'm sure my breath didn't smell much better but—Christ—a zoo would smell better than Craig.

I waved my hand in front of his face experimentally. To my amusement, his nose twitched. I wry smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I waved my hand in front of his face again, but this time slower and closer.

Craig's blue tinged nose twitched again. He stopped breathing from his mouth and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. A quiet groan left Craig's throat and his jaw flexed as he inhaled a second time. The scene was disturbing, but I found myself oddly curious and left my hand where it was.

Craig groaned again. It sounded like the mindless noises that actual zombies made as they walked around aimlessly.

I was tempted to keep my hand there to see what could happen next, and maybe I would have if I were braver, but instead I pulled my hand back before swinging it down, effectively slapping Craig in the face and waking him up.

* * *

"You know what?" I asked idly, stuffing a worn backpack with rolled up clothes and cans of food. Craig and I decided to thoroughly check the trailers again before we took off (I was pleased that he had decided to put on some new clothes), and I thought it'd be smart to actually bring some supplies with us. I was surprised to find a stash of canned food hidden underneath an old mattress. It made me wonder who hid it there.

"What?" Craig answered back testily, he'd been a little mad ever since I slapped him awake. I zipped the backpack up again, standing up and giving the full sack to Craig. He slung the bag over his shoulder and gave my baseball bat back to me (he'd been holding it while I packed).

"We should call zombies something other than 'zombie'." I said, glancing out the grimy windows before opening the trailer's door.

Craig knit his eyebrows together in confusion. "Why?"

"Because man," I pulled my goggles over my eyes, "h-haven't you ever watched a zombie movie before? The characters never actually _call_ them zombies, they call 'em something much cooler…like-like…" I wracked my brain for examples, "…Like Walkers! Or, Corpses, Grays, Biters…"

Craig chuckled as I continued and rolled his eyes. "Are you saying the word zombie is unoriginal or something?"

"Maybe I'll start calling you a Biter." I shrugged, swinging my bat over my shoulder and stepping onto the road. Craig wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I swear to fucking—"

I glanced over at Craig curiously, surprised to see that he wasn't next to me anymore, but a few steps back. He'd stopped walking, and his black gaze was glued to the road ahead. I didn't see anything except for the empty freeway in the distance.

"Craig?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and back peddling toward him.

The zombie cursed, reaching out and grabbing hold of my arm, tugging me toward the shelter of the trailers.

"W-What is it?" I hissed, my pulse drumming quicker in my ears. We were flat against the dirt-encased side of a mobile home. Craig let go of my hand to peak around the edge, back toward the freeway we'd been walking to.

"Living." Craig answered shortly, the tension in his voice causing it to waver while saying the simple two-syllable word. It hung in the still silent air like an invisible screen encasing me—taunting me.

I remembered Craig mentioning something about people yesterday, but they didn't seem tangible. After all, they were already gone. I'd never come into contact with them. They were like a distant relative. I knew they were around, but I would never actually see them. And based on Craig's rigid posture, it looked like all of that was going to change.

For a quick second I felt torn in two directions. I hadn't seen an actual _person _since Bebe went missing. And even when I was with her, it was only the two of us. A section of me wanted to jump out from behind the trailer, wave my hands in the air, and join whatever group was passing by. These were living _breathing _people. They had a pulse! They knew how hard it was! They wouldn't ridicule me for being cautious because they would _understand. _I wouldn't have to worry about waking up to one of them chewing on my neck in their sleep.

The thought disappeared as fast as it appeared, though.

I wouldn't leave Craig. I couldn't…not after all of the things he had done for me. At the time I was chalking it up to the fact that I still needed to find Bebe and he was my only chance. But honestly, I think it was more than that. I was just afraid to admit it.

"Shit." Craig cursed, pushing himself away from the filthy wall. One of his hands picked at the straps of the backpack anxiously, and his eyes flitted around nervously…seemingly unable to stay in one spot. "They're coming—_fuck—_they're coming." Craig's blue tinged fingers shot under his hat and through his hair, causing the grungy article of clothing to fall to the ground.

I bent over to pick it up, stuffing it into my pocket and scooting Craig out of the way as I risked a peak from behind the trailer's corner. There, in the distance, I saw two specks slowly making their way toward the trailer park. They were too far away for me to determine any features, but I could already tell by the way they carried themselves that they were—in fact—alive. I stared a little longer than necessary, somewhat in awe.

Craig grabbed hold of the back of my sweatshirt and tugged me back out of view. "We're fucked."

_You're fucked. _

"L-Let's just walk the other way and loop around." I suggested, squeezing the base of my bat. "They won't be able to tell that you're a zombie from far away." I tried.

"They'll see us though." Craig shot back. "And then they'll try to get to us. And _then_ they'll see what I am and blow my brains out."

I bit my lower lip in anxiety, tapping my foot against the ground as nerves began to buzz through my limbs. The tension of the situation began to infect me like a virus. Chances were that these people wouldn't listen to the simple statement, "Oh no he's alright, and you don't have to shoot him! He's kind of like a trained dog…come here Craig!"

"We—We should hide," I mumbled, suddenly feeling like a sitting duck, "barricade the door…stuff you in the bathroom or something…"

Craig looked like he was about to protest before deep masculine voices put an end to the perpetual silence that had taken over the world. His lifeless eyes doubled in size and suddenly had more expression than I'd ever seen in them.

"Damn," he hissed, grabbing hold of my hand again, "okay let's go."

We just had enough time to sneak into one of the trailers deeper in the park. It was painted a hideous light pink, which was now dulled and caked with dirt. I imagined a crazy old woman sitting on its tiny porch and knitting something for her nonexistent grandchildren.  
The inside was almost completely cleared out, save for a grey mattress in the back. Craig and I carefully pulled it off of its spring supporter and dragged it across the small area, pasting up and against the door like some sort of barricade. With our backs pressed against our makeshift wall, Craig and I scanned the rest of the trailer for anything.

Bare hardwood floors held nothing of use. There weren't even pictures on the dusty white walls. The small kitchen area held no pots or pans, plates or silverware. It looked like whoever lived here evacuated ahead of the game.

"We'll have to wait them out." Craig whispered, scratching at his head. His hair shined with grease, but it wasn't anywhere near as fucked up as my hair was. He looked funny without his hat on, almost naked. I'd just remembered that I had his hat, and was about to give it back to him when we both froze.

Dead grass crunched underneath heavy boots.

Craig and I held our breaths. Exchanging glances with each other, I decided to creep to the small window just above the kitchen counter while Craig held the mattress up. I carefully leaned forward, swallowing my pounding heart as I looked through the foggy glass.

Off to the side I spotted a man. He walked cautiously, looking in between the spaces of the trailers. His hair was a short brown crew cut that was graying at the edges. He had on a tight black jacket that gave hints of the chiseled muscle underneath it. I guessed that he was around forty years old, based on his rugged and tired features. The man held a small switchblade in front of himself. Its blade was tinted black from the countless zombies it had encountered. I quickly ducked out of sight as he crept passed our trailer.

Voices again filled the silence, seeping through the paper-thin walls of our shelter. I didn't dare sneak a peek at the other man, but I struggled to hear what they were saying.

"It's clear." A deep raspy voice said, a hint of relief dripping from its tone.

"I checked a few of the trailers." Another voice added. This one sounded much higher. "Someone stole our stash."

My head whipped over to Craig, whose gaze was focused on the backpack we'd set down. _The canned food. _I swallowed audibly.

"Shit." The first voice cursed. "Did you find anything else?"

"Only some dirty clothes." The higher voice sighed. "They were covered in Biter blood," I glanced over at Craig raising my eyebrows, he rolled his eyes, "my guess is whoever changed out of them didn't make it very far."

"Okay." There was a pause that I assumed was used for thinking. "Okay…I'll go see if I can find who took our stuff…maybe they headed in the opposite direction. You stay here, look through the rest of these trailers just incase."

"You're not going far are you?"

"No. I'll be right back. I know you can take out a Biter if you see one." Both of them chuckled.

"Okay." The second voice replied shakily. "I'll clear out the rest of these." I heard a clap on the back and then more crunching of dead grass.

"Be safe. I'll be back soon."

Craig and I stared at each other until we heard the second pair of footsteps enter another trailer.

I stood up quickly, holding my bat tightly to myself. Craig leaned over and grabbed the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

"We've got to get out of here while he's searching." He said quickly. "It's our only chance."

"A-Agreed." I nodded frantically, helping him push the mattress out of the way. Craig looked flustered, his whole body nearly trembling. And for the first time I realized that it wasn't from fear. He was still hungry. He wasn't as terrified as I thought. He was trying to keep himself under control. "Let's go." I squeaked, slowly opening the door.

I held my bat far in front of myself, pointing it in either direction before stepping out of the bright trailer. Craig followed quickly behind me and nearly smacked into my back. I saw no sign of the second voice's owner, and slowly weaved through the small spaces between each mobile home.

"Once we reach the road," I whispered, "we'll make a run for it."

We were about to round the corner of the last trailer when Craig suddenly seized the back of my shirt, tugging me back. Just at that same moment a tall thin boy jumped into view, shakily holding a hammer in front of himself. His hair was long and greasy, reaching nearly down to his shoulders. He wore a dirty red flannel, and his hair was the same shade of brown as the man's I'd seen out the window. I assumed he was the owner of the second voice.

The boy looked surprised and raised his arm until he took in my full appearance. My heart felt like it was about to bust through my ribcage.

The boy's eyes widened, and he slowly lowered his arm. I breathed out a sigh of relief, but it wasn't going to last for long.

"You're alive." He breathed, taking a step back. I held my bat tightly between my hands and thought my grip was going to end up snapping the thick wood in two. The boy's eyes shifted from my face to something behind me, and I saw them ice over with a thick layer of fear.

He suddenly sprang forward so fast that I was shoved out of way, losing my balance and falling to the dead ground. My bat rolled off to the side. "Biter!" He yelled, raising his arm once more and bringing the hammer down, aiming directly at Craig's head.

Craig jumped back, narrowly missing the attack. "Stop! I'm with him!" Craig called in his defense, dodging another lethal blow. The boy didn't seem to care. He continued screaming, swinging wildly and catching Craig in the shoulder. The zombie hissed, falling back against the wall of one of the trailers and ducking away from another swing just in time.

_Shit, _I thought wildly. This was bad. The kid was making too much noise. The other man would be back in no time if he heard…and anything else might decide to investigate too.

With a trembling hand I picked up my bat, struggling to get to my feet. Craig lunged at the boy, who jumped back out of reach. "Biter!" He screeched again, raising his arm.

My limbs seemed to move on their own as I brought my own bat up, grunting as I swung with all my might, squeezing my eyes shut. There was an ear splitting crack…and then silence.

I opened my eyes slowly, breathing heavily and catching the bright splatter of crimson that now tainted the edge of my bat. My gaze traveled to Craig, who was also heaving breaths and looking down with an expression of surprise and something else I couldn't pinpoint.

He was looking down at the motionless boy, now bleeding from beneath his greasy hair and into the grass.

I wanted to feel bad. I really did. But for some reason, a reason I'm too afraid to look into, I didn't care. I just wanted to leave.

"Come on." I rasped, turning around starting forward. When I didn't hear Craig running after me, I turned around.

What I saw made my stomach turn.

Craig was crouched over the boy's lifeless body. He'd turned the boy's head to the side, giving himself enough room to bite the boy's neck. Craig opened his mouth wide, forcing his jaws back together once he had a generous portion of flesh in his mouth. The sound it made was worse than the sight. It sounded as if Craig had just bit into a large watery piece of fruit. Using both arms to keep the body on the ground, Craig pulled his head away, ripping the skin from the bone. Long stringy tendons stretched and snapped from the corpse, sliding into Craig's mouth like red pieces of spaghetti. Craig groaned, his eyelids fluttering in delight as he lowered his head for another mouthful.

A strangled sob escaped from my throat and I ran back over to Craig. He barely acknowledged my presence and continued feeding.

"_Craig,"_ I hissed, "Craig come on w-we have to get out of h-here!"

He ignored me, licking at the inside of the hole he'd created.

"Craig!" I reached down, grabbing hold of his shoulder and pushing him back. A growl ripped through Craig's throat and he lunged at me, grabbing onto my jacket and throwing me to the ground before pouncing on top of me. My hands were sandwiched between his body and my own. His face was inches from mine, dripping red blood onto my face. It was still warm.

I breathed heavily, struggling underneath Craig's heavy body and crying out, terror seizing me by the spine.

Craig's lips twitched, and his expression swiftly softened. Black eyes growing wide, Craig scrambled off of me. His gaze flitted to the dead boy and then to me and shame flooded his face.

We stared at each other for what felt like years, until a faded voice in the distance broke the spell. It was the man from before. He must have heard the screams and was coming to help the boy.

Craig and I quickly got to our feet and took off. I didn't have to look behind me to know that the man had caught sight of us. I knew he would never catch up though, because his screams quickly became anguished wails, slicing through the air like a knife. He'd found the body.

Craig and I kept running, even when we heard desperate calls of help, even when we heard cries of loss, and even when his voice had faded into nothing. We kept running, and we didn't look back.

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** Hey guys! I wanted to update before I go on vacation so here you go! Things are starting to heat up, so what do you think? Comments, questions? **

***Special Thank You to Creek Grrl, ATTHESTROKEOFMIDNIGHT, Taylorgb, The Scribz, Amberpaw1999, Monthadog, Goregeous, Zukuto, Guest, Sandy x Maxwell 4ever, aliceinwonderlan, and Predominantly Normal for your wonderful reviews (seriously I really love them)! **

****This fic also reached 100 reviews which is SUPER COOL thank you so much!**


	13. Chapter 13

***Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park.**

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**Chapter Thirteen **

_ "You're a murder." _

_ "I didn't have to die."_

_ "Why did you kill me?" _

_ "You turned your back on us to help _them_." _

_ "I wasn't even dead…you let him eat me alive…"_

My eyes shot open and I launched myself forward into a sitting position. My back cracked irritably as I hunched over, placing my head in between my hands. _It's not my fault, _I thought miserably, dragging my hands down my exhausted features. This was the third time tonight. Every time I shut my eyes I saw the same gruesome scene pasted to the back of my eyelids: Craig crouched over that boy, digging ferociously into his neck.

"_Ngh—_fuck." I groaned, wiping furiously at my eyes. I looked up through blurry vision at my surroundings, which haven't seemed to change. _Jesus this night is carrying on forever. _

I glanced out the foggy windows and into the darkness. It swallowed everything. I wouldn't be able to see a zombie until smashed itself right up against the side of the car.

That's where we were by the way. A car. Craig and I had found one stalled on the side of the road.

My gaze traveled from the dirty windows to the torn leather seats, then crawled up the blood stained dashboard until it reached the dark figure beyond the cracked windshield. Craig was sitting on the hood of the car. He seemed to be in the same position that he was in when I woke up earlier. Hunched over, legs crossed, and facing forward. Craig offered to take watch during the night. Those were the only few words we'd exchanged.

* * *

I don't know how long Craig and I ran. All I do know is that we ran until our legs felt like jelly. We didn't speak, or even look at each other.

But as we kept going, the scenery around me was becoming familiar. It triggered my memory of long car rides to the countryside. We were getting closer to South Park, and I didn't really know how to feel about that.

We ran into a zombie dragging itself across the pavement. Its legs were ripped away, and black bulging entrails spilled from the massive slit below its torso. The skin down there looked like the edges of a piece of paper that'd been ripped in half.

I killed it easily, smashing its head in with one blow. I waited while Craig ate some of the zombie, unable to bring myself to even glance in his direction. Not long after, we came upon this abandoned car and decided to crash. Craig opted on staying outside and I didn't bother to protest.

* * *

So that's where we are now.

I shifted on the tough back seats, curling up on my side and squeezing my eyes shut again. I tried to trick my brain into focusing on something other than the gruesome events that just transpired. Like…like…the annoying feeling that something was digging into my hip. _What? _Growling in irritation I flipped back over, shoving my hand into my baggy jean pocket and extracting a crumpled up piece of fabric.

No wait…not fabric. Craig's hat. Rolling over onto my back, I held the ratty piece of clothing up above myself. I squinted into the darkness, taking in the frayed edges that had small spurts of black goop ground into the soft material. The flaps that covered the ears were ripped at the ends, marred with even more infected blood. One of my hands reached up, squishing the faded yellow puffball on top between my fingers.

I wondered why Craig bothered to keep this thing for so long. He didn't seem very attached to the other clothing we've gone through. He never struck me as someone to get emotionally invested in an object as silly as a hat, or blanket, or stuffed animal or whatever.

I scrunched the hat in my hands, bringing it back down to my nose and sniffing it experimentally. My face immediately twisted in repulse and I increased the distance between the hat and myself once more. It smelt like shit…to put it nicely. Like someone went to the petting zoo and stomped it into the soiled dirt in the goat pen.

I held the hat down by my chest, turning my head to the side and staring at the back of the torn front seats. My body was tired and cramped…wanting nothing more than to force me to stretch my gangly limbs through the side of the car and pass out in exhaustion. However, it didn't seem as though that would happen. I've _killed _someone. Someone with a _heart. _If I felt that boy's chest, my hand wouldn't be met with the hollow response it received from Craig…it would be met with a _pulse. _

_Maybe you didn't kill him. Maybe you just knocked him out. _

I almost wanted to laugh at my own mind's stupidity at trying to comfort me. It doesn't matter if I killed him or not. He's a dead man walking anyway…literally. Craig bit him. Unless that man he'd been traveling with puts a blade through his brain, he'll spring back up.

That man. Don't even let me get started on that. I wouldn't let myself remember the similarities that I spotted between the two. I wouldn't let myself remember his anguished cries that only rip through one's throat once they've lost someone close. I wouldn't let myself put the pieces together and guess their relations.

I hope I did kill the boy. Hopefully I damaged his brain enough so that man wouldn't have to finish the job.

The front of the car suddenly lurched, indicating that Craig had gotten off the hood.

I quickly turned to the side, so that I was facing the backrests of the backseat. Curling up tight, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to control my breathing in order to give the illusion that I'd been sleeping. Only once the front door opened did I realize I was still clutching Craig's hat to my chest. _Whatever, _I thought anxiously; _he probably won't look back here anyway. _

I heard the seat whine in protest as—what I assumed—Craig sat down. The car door slammed shortly after. I listened quietly as Craig shifted in his seat as it squealed again in discontent. I had no clue as to what the hell he could be doing.

Suddenly the rustling stopped. However, I could hear Craig breathing much more than before. I could also feel his breath lightly touch the backside of my head. _Is he watching me? _

My pulse immediately sped up nervously. _What the hell is he watching me for? Jesus, turn back around. This is so creepy! _

I debated simply pretending to wake up, but I honestly wasn't in the mood to have some kind of heartfelt chat with Craig Tucker right now. Why? Well, he _attacked _me a few hours ago…plus I'd probably break down in front of him and I really didn't feel like crying at the moment.

So opted to stay quiet and "asleep".

"Tweek." Craig's voice split through the darkness, causing my heart to beat erratically in my chest. I begged it silently to slow down, for all I knew he could hear it.

"Tweek." He said my name again, this time a little louder. It sounded strange, like he was testing how it sounded on his lips, like he was experimentally saying it. I decided to keep quiet and see what would happen. Maybe he'd turn back around.

"Man, are you awake?"

My body twitched in reaction, and I tried to cover it up by "shifting" my position a little. A fake, but deep sigh left my nose as I listened intently.

Craig seemed quiet for a few seconds, but I could still feel his breath on the back of my head.

"Shit." He cursed, and there was more squeaking from the seat. Eventually he settled in again, and this time he felt a lot closer. I forced myself to stay still. It was as if he were leaning over me, lowering the front seat so that he could get close.

"I decided to apologize while you're out cold." He explained. "Because if I don't say something I'm going to eat myself alive. But I'm too much of a pussy to talk to you while you're awake…so…uh…yeah…" He cut the sentence off awkwardly and I could imagine him scratching the back of his neck.

_Apologizing to me while I'm sleeping? How courteous. _

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, so quiet that I could barely hear it. "I'm sorry for a lot of things." He paused again, and I was kind of hoping that he would keep it at that.

"Like—fuck—I'm not even talking about just what happened today, or the other day." Craig was murmuring now, his voice just above a whisper. "I'm talking about before, before the dead started to walk. I was such an asshole to you."

I could feel my pulse quickening again. My stomach sank, and I silently begged that this conversation wasn't going where I thought it was.

"I hurt you." He muttered. _No no no. _"I was just confused." _No, don't you dare. _"I didn't care at first, when we used to fool around, because what we were doing was—uh—fun. I guess. But then I started getting attached." _Fuck you. _"And it scared me. I didn't want…to like you…that way. So I pushed you away and did just about what every cliché confused dude does. I made an ass of myself. And I wanted to make you miserable for making me that way."

It took everything in me to keep my body from shaking and to keep my eyes from leaking. Because FUCK, it had taken me so long to get over the stupid shit Craig Tucker had done to me. And even after he did all that crap, I still LIKED him. Then, suddenly (AT PROBABLY THE WORST TIME POSSIBLE) he's just like, "b t dubs I liked you the whole time". You know what that does to a guy? I wanted to punch him. I wanted to go back in time and let that boy smash his skull to bits. I thought I was finally rid of the stupid feelings I had for the stupid zombie talking to me. I thought I wasn't even capable of feeling anything like that at all anymore.

But then I began thinking about how I let him "kiss" me that one night long ago. Or how I fell asleep with my hand pressed against his chest and then woken up in his freezing arms.

I knew I was being stupid. I had to be. How could I possibly like him…like _that _again? I'm not even saying I really did. No, it was too soon. But I could see it coming.

How could those feelings suddenly return so quickly? Was that even possible? Was I flocking to them selfishly? Eating them up because I've been denied anything so good in what felt like forever?

I should have "woken" up then. If I were smart I would have. But I didn't. Because I knew I would never hear what Craig had to say if I were to end the game now.

"I'm trying to make it up to you." Craig sighed. "I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but I think bringing you back to South Park will help you." I scrunched up my face, hoping Craig didn't notice. _Help me? _"Everything will get better."

I was seconds from snapping my eyes open when I heard Craig shift on the chair again. I curled further into myself, hoping he would disappear. However, the opposite seemed to happen.

I heard him awkwardly scramble to the thin space between the front seats and the back ones. I listened as his legs settled down on the matted floor right behind me. Craig cursed quietly as he shoved my bat under the seat, and once again I could feel his breath coat the back of my neck. I opened my mouth slightly, opting to let air in through my lips rather than my nose. Craig's breath was a little hard to deal with in proximity.

A cold finger prodded the back of my neck, but I kept my muscles locked in place, squeezing his hat tightly between my hands. The frozen digit trailed along the underside of my jaw line, coming to a rest halfway between my ear and chin. He was feeling my pulse.

I willed my heart to slow down, but I could already feel it pumping harshly against Craig's fingertips.

He sighed, as if he were applying ice to a burning wound.

My heart continued to pound in my chest, and I was thankful for the darkness because I could feel blood flying to my cheeks.

"I fucked up today." Craig murmured, his voice just above my ear. "I'm never going to forgive myself for it," he continued as I felt my stomach drop, "but I have more self control than you give me credit for…I know I do."

Then, I felt a soft cold pressure push itself gently down against my cheek.

He didn't bite this time.

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**Yeah uhh…this chapter isn't exactly action packed or long…but it's necessary. So, what do you think? Comments, questions? **

**Thank you to Creek Grrl, ATTHESTROKEOFMIDNIGHT, Goregous, Amberpaw1999, megustathemastache, Sandy x Maxwell 4ever, ObanesHarvest, and drooly-puppy for leaving some awesome and much appreciated reviews!**


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